• 


^c^XX^ 


7  II  E    HOL  V    F  A  M  I  L  Y 

'Repose  in   Egypt — by  I.udwig  Knaus) 


THE   FIRS  T 
CHRISTMAS 


FROM  "BEN-HUR" 

by 

LEW.    WA  LLA  C  E 


ILLUSTRATED  FROM  DRAWINGS  BY 

WILLIAM    MARTIN  JOHNSON 

AND  FROM  PHOTOGRAPHS 


JVE  W  YORK  AND  LONDON 

HARPER  6r  BROTHERS    PUBLISHERS 

1902 


Copyright,  1880,  1891,  1899,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 


All  rights  reserved. 
Published   September,  1902. 


PREFACE 

I  HEARD  the  story  of  the  Wise  Men  when  a 
small  boy.  My  mother  read  it  to  me ;  and  of 
all  the  tales  of  the  Bible  and  the  New  Testa- 
ment none  took  such  a  lasting  hold  upon  my 
imagination,  none  so  filled  me  with  wonder. 
Who  were  they  ?  Whence  did  they  come  ? 
Were  they  all  from  the  same  country?  Did 
they  come  singly  or  together?  Above  all, 
what  led  them  to  Jerusalem,  asking  of  all 
they  met  the  strange  question,  "  Where  is  he 
that  is  born  King  of  the  Jews  ?  for  we  have 
seen  his  star  in  the  east,  and  are  come  to  wor- 
ship him." 

Finally  I  concluded  to  write  of  them.  By 
carrying  the  story  on  to  the  birth  of  Christ 
in  the  cave  by  Bethlehem,  it  was  possible,  I 
thought,  to  compose  a  brochure  that  might  be 
acceptable  to  the  Harper  Brothers.  Seeing 
the  opportunities  it  afforded  for  rich  illustra- 
tion, they  might  be  pleased  to  publish  it  as  a 
serial  in  their  Magazine. 


20bl9i3 


Preface 

When  the  writing  was  done,  I  laid  it  away 
in  a  drawer  of  my  desk,  waiting  for  courage  to 
send  it  forward*;  and  there  it  might  be  still 
lying  had  it  not  been  for  a  fortuitous  circum- 
stance. 

There  was  a  great  mass  Convention  of  Re- 
publicans at  Indianapolis  in  '76.  I  resolved 
to  attend  it,  and  took  a  sleeper  from  Craw- 
fordsville  the  evening  before  the  meeting. 
Moving  slowly  down  the  aisle  of  the  car,  talk- 
ing with  some  friends,  I  passed  the  state-room. 
There  was  a  knock  on  the  door  from  the  in- 
side, and  some  one  called  my  name.  Upon 
answer,  the  door  opened,  and  I  saw  Colonel 
Robert  G.  Ingersoll  looking  comfortable  as 
might  be  considering  the  sultry  weather. 

"  Was  it  you  called  me,  Colonel  ?" 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  Come  in.  I  feel  like 
talking." 

I  leaned  against  the  cheek  of  the  door,  and 
said  :  "  Well,  if  you  will  let  me  dictate  the  sub- 
ject, I  will  come  in." 

"  Certainly.    That's  exactly  what  I  want." 

I  took  seat  by  him,  and  began  : 

"  Is  there  a  God  ?" 

Quick  as  a  flash,  he  replied :  "  I  don't  know ; 
do  you  ?" 

And  then  I :  "Is  there  a  Devil?" 


Preface 

And  he :  "I  don't  know ;  do  you  ?" 

"  Is  there  a  Heaven  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  ;  do  you?" 

"  Is  there  a  Hell  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  ;  do  you?" 

"  Is  there  a  Hereafter  ?" 

"  I  don't  know ;  do  you  ?" 

I  finished,  saying,  "  There,  Colonel,  you  have 
the  texts.  Now  go." 

And  he  did.  He  was  in  prime  mood  ;  and, 
beginning,  his  ideas  turned  to  speech,  flowing 
like  a  heated  river.  His  manner  of  putting 
things  was  marvellous;  and  as  the  Wedding 
Guest  was  held  by  the  glittering  eye  of  the 
Ancient  Mariner,  I  sat  spellbound,  listening 
to  a  medley  of  argument,  eloquence,  wit,  sat- 
ire, audacity,  irreverence,  poetry,  brilliant  an- 
titheses, and  pungent  excoriation  of  believers 
in  God,  Christ,  and  Heaven,  the  like  of  which 
I  had  never  heard.  He  surpassed  himself,  and 
that  is  saying  a  great  deal. 

The  speech  was  brought  to  an  end  by  our 
arrival  at  the  Indianapolis  Central  Station 
nearly  two  hours  after  its  commencement. 
Upon  alighting  from  the  car,  we  separated : 
he  to  go  to  a  hotel,  and  I  to  my  brother's,  a 
long  way  up  northeast  of  town.  The  street 
cars  were  at  my  service,  but  I  preferred  to 


Preface 

walk,  for  I  was  in  a  confusion  of  mind  not 
unlike  dazement. 

To  explain  this,  it  is  necessary  now  to  con- 
fess that  my  attitude  with  respect  to  religion 
had  been  one  of  absolute  indifference.  I  had 
heard  it  argued  times  innumerable,  always 
without  interest.  So,  too,  I  had  read  the  ser- 
mons of  great  preachers— Bossuet,  Chalmers, 
Robert  Hall,  and  Henry  Ward  Beecher — but 
always  for  the  surpassing  charm  of  their  rhet- 
oric. But — how  strange  !  To  lift  'me  out  of 
my  indifference,  one  would  think  only  strong 
affirmations  of  things  regarded  holiest  would 
do.  Yet  here  was  I  now  moved  as  never  be- 
fore, and  by  what  ?  The  most  outright  deni- 
als of  all  human  knowledge  of  God,  Christ, 
Heaven,  and  the  Hereafter  which  figures  so  in 
the  hope  and  faith  of  the  believing  every- 
where. Was  the  Colonel  right  ?  What  had  I 
on  which  to  answer  yes  or  no  ?  He  had  made 
me  ashamed  of  my  ignorance ;  and  then — here 
is  the  unexpected  of  the  affair — as  I  walked 
on  in  the  cool  darkness  I  was  aroused  for  the 
first  time  in  my  life  to  the  importance  of  re- 
ligion. To  write  all  my  reflections  would  re- 
quire many  pages.  I  pass  them  to  say  simply 
that  I  resolved  to  study  the  subject.  And 
while  casting  round  how  to  set  about  the 

vi 


Preface 

study  to  the  best  advantage,  I  thought  of  the 
manuscript  in  my  desk.  Its  closing  scene  was 
the  child  Christ  in  the  cave  by  Bethlehem : 
why  not  go  on  with  the  story  down  to  the 
crucifixion  ?  That  would  make  a  book,  and 
compel  me  to  study  everything  of  pertinency; 
after  which,  possibly,  I  would  be  possessed  of 
opinions  of  real  value. 

It  only  remains  to  say  that  I  did  as  resolved, 
with  results  —  first,  the  book  Ben-Hur,  and, 
second,  a  conviction  amounting  to  absolute 
belief  in  God  and  the  divinity  of  Christ. 

LEWIS  WALLACE. 


TABLE    OF  CONTENTS 

CHAP  PAGB 

£.           INTO  THE  DESERT                 3 

II.         MEETING  OF  THE  WISE  MEN IO 

HI.       THE  ATHENIAN  SPEAKS — FAITH                         .  17 

IV.       SPEECH  OF  THE  HINDOO— LOVE 22 

v.      THE  EGYPTIAN'S  STORY— GOOD  WORKS     .    .  28 

VI.  THE  JOPPA   GATE.      .....                 .      .  41 

VII.  TYPICAL  CHARACTERS  AT  THE    JOPPA    GATE  47 

VIII.  JOSEPH  AND  MARY   GOING  TO  BETHLEHEM  54 

IX.  THE  CAVE  AT  BETHLEHEM  .     .           62 

X.  THE  LIGHT  IN  THE  SKY                .           .                 .      .  75 

XI  CHRIST  IS  BORN 77 

XII  THE  WISE  MEN  ARRIVE  AT  JERUSALEM  86 

XIII.  THE  WITNESSES  BEFORE  HEROD      .  9 1 

XIV.  THE  WISE  MEN  FIND  THE  CHILD      ....         Io6 


LIST  OF  PLATES 

THE  HOLY  FAMILY Frontisfuft 

(Repose  in  Egypt— by  Ludwig  Knaus) 

THE  ADORATION  OF  THE  SHEPHERDS.      .     .  Facing  f.  32 
(From  a  painting  by  Murillo  in  the  Prado,  Madrid) 

THE  VIRGIN  AND  CHILD,  ENTHRONED,  WITH 

SAINTS •         "64 

(The    Colonna    Raphael,   painted    in    1505    for    a 
convent  in  Perugia) 

THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  OLIVE-BRANCH  .      .  "06 

(After  the  painting  by  N.  Barabino) 


The  flashes  come  and  gv  : 
All  heaven  bursts  her  starry  floors 

And  streivs  her  lights  bchrw. 
And  deepens  on  and  up .'..." 
—TENNYSON. 


THE 
FIRST  CHRISTMAS 


*%fek 

&> 


T 

CHAPTER  I 


INTO  THE   DESERT 

HE  Jebel  es  Zubleh  is  a  mountain  fif- 
ty miles  and  more  in  length,  and  so 
narrow  that  its  tracery  on  the  map 
gives  it  a  likeness  to  a  caterpillar 
crawling  from  the  south  to  the  north.    Stand- 
on  its  red-and-white  cliffs,  and  looking  off 
under  the   path  of  the   rising  sun,  one  sees 
only  the   Desert   of  Arabia,  where  the   east 
winds,  so  hateful  to  the  vine-growers  of  Jer- 
,  have  kept  their  playgrounds  since  the 
ginning.     Its  feet  are  well  covered  by  sands 
tossed  from  the  Euphrates,  there  to  lie ;  for 
the  mountain  is  a  wall  to  the  pasture-lands  of 
Moab  and  Ammon  on  the  west — lands  which 
else  had  been  of  the  desert  a  part. 

The  Arab  has  impressed  his  language  upon 
everything  south  and  east  of  Judea  ;  so,  in  his 
tongue,  the  old  Jebel  is  the  parent  of  num- 
berless wadies  which,  intersecting  the  Roman 
road — now  a  dim  suggestion  of  what  once  it 


was,  a  dusty  path  for  Syrian  pilgrims  to  and 
from  Mecca — run  their  furrows,  deepening  as 
they  go,  to  pass  the  torrents  of  the  rainy  sea- 
son into  the  Jordan,  or  their  last  receptacle, 
the  Dead  Sea.  Out  of  one  of  these  wadies — 
or,  more  particularly,  out  of  that  one  which 
Arises  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  Jebel,  and,  ex- 
tending east  of  north,  becomes  at  length  the 

'bed  of  the  Jabbok  River — a  traveller  passed, 
?.  going  to  the  table-lands  of  the  desert.    To  this 
person  the  attention  of  the  reader  is  first  be- 
sought. 

Judged  by  his  appearance,  he  was  quite 
forty-five  years  old.  His  beard,  once  of  the 
deepest  black,  flowing  broadly  over  his  breast, 
was  streaked  with  white.  His  face  was  brown 
as  a  parched  coffee-berry,  and  so  hidden  by  a 

'  red  kufiyeh  (as  the  kerchief  of  the  head  is  at 
this  day  called  by  the  children  of  the  desert) 
as  to  be  but  in  part  visible.  Now  and  then  he 
raised  his  eyes,  and  they  were  large  and  dark. 
He  was  clad  in  the  flowing  garments  so  uni- 
versal in  the  East ;  but  their  style  may  not  be 
described  more  particularly,  for  he  sat  under 
a  miniature  tent,  and  rode  a  great  white  drom- 
edary. 

It  may  be  doubted  if  the  people  of  the  West 
ever  overcome  the  impression  made  upon  them 
by  the  first  view  of  a  camel  equipped  and  load- 
ed for  the  desert.  Custom,  so  fatal  to  other 
novelties,  affects  this  feeling  but  little.  At  the 
end  of  long  journeys  with  caravans,  after  years 
of  residence  with  the  Bedawin,  the  Western- 
born,  wherever  they  may  be,  will  stop  and  wait 


the  passing  of  the  stately  brute.  The 
is  not  in  the  figure,  which  not  even  love  can 
make  beautiful;  nor  in  the  movement, 
noiseless  stepping,  or  the  broad  careen.  As  is' 
the  kindness  of  the  sea  to  a  ship,  so  is  that  of 
the  desert  to  its  creature.  It  clothes  him  with 
all  its  mysteries;  in  such  manner,  too,  thatji 
•while  we  are  looking  at  him  we  are  thinking 
of  them:  therein  is  the  wonder.  The  animal 
which  now  came  out  of  the  wady  might  well 
have  claimed  the  customary  homage.  Its  color 
and  height;  its  breadth  of  foot;  its  bulk  of 
body,  not  fat,  but  overlaid  with  muscle ;  its 
long,  slender  neck,  of  swan-like  curvature ;  the 
head,  wide  between  the  eyes,  and  tapering  to 
a  muzzle  which  a  lady's  bracelet  might  have 
almost  clasped ,  its  motion,  step  long  and  elas- 
tic, tread  sure  and  soundless — all  certified  its 
Syrian  blood,  old  as  the  days  of  Cyrus,  and  ab- 
solutely priceless.  There  was  the  usual  bridle, 
covering  the  forehead  with  scarlet  fringe,  and 
garnishing  the  throat  with  pendent  brazen 
chains,  each  ending  with  a  tinkling  silver  bell ; 
but  to  the  bridle  there  was  neither  rein  for 
the  rider  nor  strap  for  a  driver.  The  furniture 
perched  on  the  back  was  an  invention  which 
with  any  other  people  than  of  the  East  would 
have  made  the  inventor  renowned.  It  con- 
sisted of  two  wooden  boxes,  scarce  four  feet  in 
length,  balanced  so  that  one  hung  at  each  side ; 
the  inner  space,  softly  lined  and  carpeted,  was 
arranged  to  allow  the  master  to  sit  or  lie  half 
reclined ;  over  it  all  was  stretched  a  green 
awning.  Broad  back  and  breast  straps,  and 


girths,  secured  with  countless  knots  and  ties, 
held  the  device  in  place.  In  such  manner  the 
ingenious  sons  of  Cush  had  contrived  to  make 
comfortable  the  sunburned  ways  of  the  wilder- 
ness, along  which  lay  their  duty  as  often  as 
their  pleasure. 

When  the  dromedary  lifted  itself  out  of  the 
last  break  of  the  wady,  the  traveller  had  passed 
the  boundary  of  El  Belka,  the  ancient  Am- 
mon.  It  was  morning  -  time.  Before  him 
was  the  sun,  half  curtained  in  fleecy  mist ;  be- 
fore him  also  spread  the  desert ;  not  the  realm 
of  drifting  sands,  which  was  farther  on,  but  the 
region  where  the  herbage  began  to  dwarf; 
where  the  surface  is  strewn  with  bowlders  of 
granite,  and  gray  and  brown  stones,  inter- 
spersed with  languishing  acacias  and  tufts  of 
camel-grass.  The  oak,  bramble,  and  arbutus 
lay  behind,  as  if  they  had  come  to  a  line, 
looked  over  into  the  well -less  waste,  and 
crouched  with  fear. 

And  now  there  was  an  end  of  path  or  road. 
More  than  ever  the  camel  seemed  insens'bly 
driven ,  it  lengthened  and  quickened  its  pace, 
its  head  pointed  straight  towards  the  horizon  ; 
through  the  wide  nostrils  it  drank  the  wind  in 
great  draughts.  The  litter  swayed,  and  rose 
and  fell  like  a  boat  in  the  waves.  Dried  leaves 
in  occasional  beds  rustled  underfoot.  Some- 
times a  perfume  like  absinthe  sweetened  all 
the  air.  Lark  and  chat  and  rock -swallow 
leaped  to  wing,  and  white  partridges  ran  whist- 
ling and  clucking  out  of  the  way.  More  rare- 
ly a  fox  or  a  hyena  quickened  his  gallop,  to 


study  the  intruders  at  a  safe  distance.     Off  to^ 
the  right  rose  the  hills  of  the  Jebel,  the  pearl- ^ 
gray  veil   resting  upon   them   changing  mo-  ^ 
mentarily  into  a  purple  which  the  sun  would 
make  matchless   a  little   later.     Over  their  g 
highest  peaks  a  vulture  sailed  on  broad  wings 
into  widening  circles.     But  of  all  these  things 
the  tenant  under  the  green  tent  saw  nothing, 
or,  at  least,  made  no  sign  of  recognition.     His 
eyes  were  fixed  and  dreamy.     The  going  of 
the  man,  like  that  of  the  animal,  was  as  one 
being  led. 

For  two  hours  the  dromedary  swung  for- 
ward, keeping  the  trot  steadily  and  the  line 
due  east.  In  that  time  the  traveller  never 
changed  his  position,  nor  looked  to  the  right 
or  left.  On  the  desert,  distance  is  not  meas- 
ured by  miles  or  leagues,  but  by  the  saat,  or 
hour, and  the  manzil,  or  halt:  three  and  a  half 
leagues  fill  the  former,  fifteen  or  twenty-five 
the  latter;  but  they  are  the  rates  for  the  com- 
mon camel.  A  carrier  of  the  genuine  Syrian 
stock  can  make  three  leagues  easily.  At  full 
speed  he  overtakes  the  ordinary  winds.  As 
one  of  the  results  of  the  rapid  advance,  the  face 
of  the  landscape  underwent  a  change.  The 
Jebel  stretched  along  the  western  horizon,  like 
a  pale -blue  ribbon.  A  tell,  or  hummock  of 
clay  and  cemented  sand,  arose  here  and  there. 
Now  and  then  basaltic  stones  lifted  their  round 
crowns,  outposts  of  the  mountain  against  the 
forces  of  the  plain;  all  else,  however,  was 
sand,  sometimes  smooth  as  the  beaten  beach, 
then  heaped  in  rolling  ridges;  here  chopped 


waves,  there  long  swells.     So,  too,  the  condi- 
tion of  the  atmosphere  changed.    The  sun, 
high  risen,  had  drunk  his  fill  of  dew  and  mist,  \ 
;  and  warmed  the  breeze  that  kissed  the  wan-  : 
•derer  under  the  awning;  far  and  near  he  was  , 
tinting  the  earth  with  faint  milk-whiteness, 
and  shimmering  all  the  sky. 

Two  hours  more  passed  without  rest  or 
deviation  from  the  course.  Vegetation  entire- 
ly ceased.  The  sand,  so  crusted  on  the  sur- 
face that  it  broke  into  rattling  flakes  at  every 
step,  held  undisputed  sway.  The  Jebel  was 
out  of  view,  and  there  was  no  landmark  visi- 
ble. The  shadow  that  before  followed  had 
now  shifted  to  the  north,  and  was  keeping 
even  race  with  the  objects  which  cast  it ;  and 
as  there  was  no  sign  of  halting,  the  conduct 
of  the  traveller  became  each  moment  more 
strange. 

No  one,  be  it  remembered,  seeks  the  desert 
for  a  pleasure-ground.  Life  and  business  trav- 
erse it  by  paths  along  which  the  bones  of 
things  dead  are  strewn  as  so  many  blazons. 
Such  are  the  roads  from  well  to  well,  from 
pasture  to  pasture.  The  heart  of  the  most 
veteran  sheik  beats  quicker  when  he  finds 
himself  alone  in  the  pathless  tracts.  So  the 
man  with  whom  we  are  dealing  could  not 
have  been  in  search  of  pleasure ;  neither  was 
his  manner  that  of  a  fugitive ;  not  once  did 
he  look  behind  him.  In  such  situations  fear 
and  curiosity  are  the  most  common  sensa- 
tions; he  was  not  moved  by  them.  When 
men  are  lonely,  they  stoop  to  any  companion- 

8 


ship ;  the  dog  becomes  a  comrade,  the  horse  a 
friend,  and  it  is  no  shame  to  shower  them 
with  caresses  and  speeches  of  love.  The  cam- 
el received  no  such  token,  not  a  touch,  not  a 
word. 

Exactly  at  noon  the  dromedary,  of  its  own 
will,  stopped,  and  uttered  the  cry  or  moan,  pe- 
culiarly piteous,  by  which  its  kind  always  pro- 
test against  an  overload,  and  sometimes  crave 
attention  and  rest.  The  master  thereupon  be- 
stirred himself,  waking,  as  it  were,  from  sleep. 
He  threw  the  curtains  of  the  houdah  up,  looked 
at  the  sun,  surveyed  the  country  on  every  side 
long  and  carefully,  as  if  to  identify  an  ap- 
pointed place.  Satisfied  with  the  inspection, 
he  drew  a  deep  breath  and  nodded,  much  as 
to  say,  "  At  last,  at  last !"  A  moment  after, 
he  crossed  his  hands  upon  his  breast,  bowed 
his  head,  and  prayed  silently.  The  pious  duty 
done,  he  prepared  to  dismount.  From  his 
throat  proceeded  the  sound  heard  doubtless 
by  the  favorite  camels  of  Job — Ikh  !  ikh ! — the 
signal  to  kneel.  Slowly  the  animal  obeyed, 
grunting  the  while.  The  rider  then  put  his 
foot  upon  the  slender  neck,  and  stepped  upon 
the  sand. 


MEETING  OF  THE  WISE  MEN 


* 


man  as  now  revealed  was  of  ad- 
mirable proportions,  not  so  tall  as 
powerful.  Loosening  the  silken 
rope  which  held  the  kufiyeh  on  his 
head,  he  brushed  the  fringed  folds  back  until 
his  face  was  bare — a  strong  face,  almost  negro 
in  color;  yet  the  low,  broad  forehead,  aquiline 
•  nose,  the  outer  corners  of  the  eyes  turned 
slightly  upward,  the  hair  profuse,  straight, 
harsh,  of  metallic  lustre,  and  falling  to  the 
shoulder  in  many  plaits,  were  signs  of  origin 
impossible  to  disguise.  So  looked  the  Pha- 
raohs and  the  later  Ptolemies ,  so  looked  Miz- 
raim,  father  of  the  Egyptian  race.  He  wore 
the  kamis,  a  white  cotton  shirt,  tight-sleeved, 
open  in  front,  extending  to  the  ankles  and 
embroidered  down  the  collar  and  breast,  over 
which  was  thrown  a  brown  woollen  cloak,  now, 
as  in  all  probability  it  was  then,  called  the  aba, 
an  outer  garment  with  long  skirt  and  short 
sleeves,  lined  inside  with  stuff  of  mixed  cotton 
and  silk,  edged  all  round  with  a  margin  of 
clouded  yellow.  His  feet  were  protected  by 
sandals,  attached  by  thongs  of  soft  leather. 
A  sash  held  the  kamis  to  his  waist.  What 
was  very  noticeable,  considering  he  was  alone, 
and  that  the  desert  was  the  haunt  of  leopards 
and  lions,  and  men  quite  as  wild,  he  carried 


no  arras,  not  even  the  crooked  stick  used  for 
guiding  camels ;  wherefore  we  may  at  least  in- 
fer his  errand  peaceful,  and  that  he  was  either 
uncommonly  bold  or  under  extraordinary  pro- 
tection. 

The  traveller's  limbs  were  numb,  for  the  ride 
had  been  long  and  wearisome ;  so  he  rubbed 
his  hands  and  stamped  his  feet,  and  walked 
round  the  faithful  servant,  whose  lustrous  eyes 
were  closing  in  calm  content  with  the  cud  he 
had  already  found.  Often,  while  making  the 
circuit,  he  paused,  and,  shading  his  eyes  with 
his  hands,  examined  the  desert  to  the  ex- 
tremest  verge  of  vision ;  and  always,  when  the 
survey  was  ended,  his  face  clouded  with  dis- 
appointment, slight,  but  enough  to  advise  a 
shrewd  spectator  that  he  was  there  expecting 
company,  if  not  by  appointment ;  at  the  same 
time,  the  spectator  would  have  been  conscious 
of  a  sharpening  of  the  curiosity  to  learn  what 
the  business  could  be  that  required  transaction 
in  a  place  so  far  from  civilized  abode. 

However  disappointed,  there  could  be  little 
doubt  of  the  stranger's  confidence  in  the  com- 
ing ot  the  expected  company.  In  token  there- 
of, he  went  first  to  the  litter,  and,  from  the 
cot  or  box  opposite  the  one  he  had  occupied 
in  coming,  produced  a  sponge  and  a  small 
gurglet  of  water,  with  which  he  washed  the 
eyes,  face,  and  nostrils  of  the  camel ;  that  done, 
from  the  same  depository  he  drew  a  circular 
cloth,  red-and-white-striped,  a  bundle  of  rods, 
and  a  stout  cane.  The  latter,  after  some  ma- 
nipulation, proved  to  be  a  cunning  device  of 


lesser  joints,  one  within  another,  which,  when 
united  together,  formed  a  centre  pole  higher 
than  his  head.  When  the  pole  was  planted, 
and  the  rods  set  around  it,  he  spread  the  cloth 
over  them,  and  was  literally  at  home — a  home 
much  smaller  than  the  habitations  of  emir  and 
sheik,  yet  their  counterpart  in  all  other  re- 
spects. From  the  litter  again  he  brought  a 
carpet  or  square  rug,  and  covered  the  floor  of 
the  tent  on  the  side  from  the  sun.  That  done, 
he  went  out,  and  once  more,  and  with  greater 
care  and  more  eager  eyes,  swept  the  encircling 
country.  Except  a  distant  jackal,  galloping 
across  the  plain,  and  an  eagle  flying  towards 
the  Gulf  of  Akaba,  the  waste  below,  like  the 
blue  above  it,  was  lifeless. 

He  turned  to  the  camel,  saying  low,  and  in 
a  tongue  strange  to  the  desert,  "  We  are  far 
from  home,  O  racer  with  the  swiftest  winds — 
we  are  far  from  home,  but  God  is  with  us.  Let 
us  be  patient." 

Then  he  took  some  beans  from  a  pocket  in 
the  saddle,  and  put  them  in  a  bag  made  to 
hang  below  the  animal's  nose ;  and  when  he 
saw  the  relish  with  which  the  good  servant 
took  to  the  food,  he  turned  and  again  scanned 
the  world  of  sand,  dim  with  the  glow  of  the 
vertical  sun. 

"  They  will  come,"  he  said,  calmly.  "  He 
that  led  me  is  leading  them.  I  will  make 
ready." 

From  the  pouches  which  lined  the  interior 
of  the  cot,  and  from  a  willow  basket  which 
was  part  of  its  furniture,  he  brought  forth  ma- 


terials  for  a  meal :  platters  close-woven  of  the 
fibres  of  palms  ;  wine  in  small  gurglets  of  skin  ; 
mutton  dried  and  smoked ;  stoneless  shami, 
or  Syrian  pomegranates  ;  dates,  of  El  Shelebei, 
wondrous  rich  and  grown  in  the  nakhil,  or 
palm  orchards,  of  Central  Arabia ;  cheese,  like 
David's  "  slices  of  milk ;"  and  leavened  bread 
from  the  city  bakery  —  all  which  he  carried 
and  set  upon  the  carpet  under  the  tent.  As 
the  final  preparation,  about  the  provisions  he 
laid  three  pieces  of  silk  cloth,  used  among  re- 
fined people  of  the  East  to  cover  the  knees  of 
guests  while  at  table — a  circumstance  signifi- 
cant of  the  number  of  persons  who  were  to 
partake  of  his  entertainment — the  number  he 
was  awaiting. 

All  was  now  ready.  He  stepped  out :  lo ! 
in  the  east  a  dark  speck  on  the  face  of  the 
desert.  He  stood  as  if  rooted  to  the  ground ; 
his  eyes  dilated ;  his  flesh  crept  chilly,  as  if  -, 
touched  by  something  supernatural.  The 
speck  grew ;  became  large  as  a  hand  ;  at  length 
assumed  divine  proportions.  A  little  later, 
full  into  view  swung  a  duplication  of  his  own 
dromedary,  tall  and  white,  and  bearing  a  hou- 
dah,  the  travelling  litter  of  Hindostan.  Then 
the  Egyptian  crossed  his  hands  upon  his 
breast,  and  looked  to  heaven. 

"  God  only  is  great !"  he  exclaimed,  his  eyes 
full  of  tears,  his  soul  in  awe. 

The  stranger  drew  nigh  —  at  last  stopped.    ' 
Then  he,  too,  seemed  just  waking.    He  beheld 
the  kneeling  camel,  the  tent,  and   the  man 
standing  prayerfully  at  the  door.     He  crossed 


his  hands,  bent  his  head,  and  prayed  silently  ;VX 
after  which,  in  a  little  while,  he  stepped  from 
his  camel's  neck  to  the  sand,  and  advanced 
towards  the  Egyptian,  as  did  the  Egyptian 
towards  him.  A  moment  they  looked  at  each 
other ;  then  they  embraced — that  is.  each  threw 
his  right  arm  over  the  other's  shoulder,  and 
the  left  round  the  side,  placing  his  chin  first 
upon  the  left,  then  upon  the  right  breast. 

"  Peace  be  with  thee,  O  servant  of  the  true 
God  !"  the  stranger  said. 

"  And  to  thee,  O  brother  of  the  true  faith ! 
— to  thee  peace  and  welcome,"  the  Egyptian 
replied,  with  fervor. 

The  new-comer  was  tall  and  gaunt,  with  lean 
face,  sunken  eyes,  white  hair  and  beard,  and  a 
complexion  between  the  hue  of  cinnamon  and 
bronze.  He,  too,  was  unarmed.  His  costume 
was  Hindostani ;  over  the  skull-cap  a  shawl 
was  wound  in  great  folds,  forming  a  turban ; 
his  body  garments  were  in  the  style  of  the 
Egyptian's,  except  that  the  aba  was  shorter, 
exposing  wide  flowing  breeches  gathered  at 
the  ankles.  In  place  of  sandals,  his  feet  were 
clad  in  half-slippers  of  red  leather,  pointed  at 
the  toes.  Save  the  slippers,  the  costume. from 
head  to  foot  was  of  white  linen.  The  air  of 
the  man  was  high,  stately,  severe.  Visvamitra, 
the  greatest  of  the  ascetic  heroes  of  the  Iliad 
of  the  East,  had  in  him  a  perfect  representative. 
He  might  have  been  called  a  Life  drenched 
with  the  wisdom  of  Brahma — Devotion  In- 
carnate. Only  in  his  eyes  was  there  proof  of 
humanity ;  when  he  lifted  his  face  trom  the 


Egyptian's  breast,  they  were  glistening  with 
tears. 

"  God  only  is  great !"  he  exclaimed,  when 
the  embrace  was  finished. 

"  And  blessed  are  they  that  serve  him !"  the 
Egyptian  answered,  wondering  at  the  para- 
phrase of  his  own  exclamation.  "  But  let  us 
wait,"  he  added,  "  let  us  wait ;  for  see,  the  oth- 
er comes  yonder !" 

They  looked  to  the  north,  where,  already 
plain  to  view,  a  third  camel,  of  the  whiteness 
of  the  others,  came  careening  like  a  ship. 
They  waited,  standing  together — waited  until 
the  new-comer  arrived,  dismounted,  and  ad- 
vanced towards  them. 

"  Peace  to  you,  O  my  brother !"  he  said, 
while  embracing  the  Hindoo. 

And  the  Hindoo  answered,  "  God's  will  be 
done !" 

The  last  comer  was  all  unlike  his  friends: 
his  frame  was  slighter ;  his  complexion  white ; 
a  mass  of  waving  light  hair  was  a  perfect  crown 
for  his  small  but  beautiful'  head ;  the  warmth 
of  his  dark-blue  eyes  certified  a  delicate  mind, 
and  a  cordial,  brave  nature.  He  was  bare- 
headed and  unarmed.  Under  the  folds  of  the 
Tyrian  blanket  which  he  wore  with  uncon- 
scious grace  appeared  a  tunic,  short-sleeved 
and  low-necked,  gathered  to  the  waist  by  a 
band,  and  reaching  nearly  to  the  knee,  leaving 
the  neck,  arms,  and  legs  bare.  Sandals  guard- 
ed his  feet.  Fifty  years,  probably  more,  had 
spent  themselves  upon  him,  with  no  other  ef- 
fect, apparently,  than  to  tinge  his  demeanor 


with  gravity  and  temper  his  words  with  fore- 
thought. The  physical  organization  and  the 
brightness  of  soul  were  untouched.  No  need 
to  tell  the  student  from  what  kindred  he  was 
sprung ;  if  he  came  not  himself  from  the  groves 
of  Athene,  his  ancestry  did. 

When  his  arms  fell  from  the  Egyptian,  the 
latter  said,  with  a  tremulous  voice,  "  The  Spirit 
brought  me  first ;  wherefore  I  know  myself 
chosen  to  be  the  servant  of  my  brethren.  The 
tent  is  set,  and  the  bread  is  ready  for  the 
breaking.  Let  me  perform  my  office." 

Taking  each  by  the  hand,  he  led  them  with- 
in, and  removed  their  sandals  and  washed 
their  feet,  and  he  poured  water  upon  their 
hands,  and  dried  them  with  napkins. 

Then,  when  he  had  laved  his  own  hands,  he 
said,  "  Let  us  take  care  of  ourselves,  brethren, 
as  our  service  requires,  and  eat,  that  we  may 
be  strong  for  what  remains  of  the  day's  duty. 
While  we  eat,  we  will  each  learn  who  the  oth- 
ers are,  and  whence  they  come,  and  how  they 
are  called." 

He  took  them  to  the  repast,  and  seated  them 
so  that  they  faced  each  other.  Simultaneously 
their  heads  bent  forward,  their  hands  crossed 
upon  their  breasts,  and,  speaking  together,  they 
said  aloud  this  simple  grace : 

"  Father  of  all — God ! — what  we  have  here 
is  of  thee  ;  take  our  thanks  and  bless  us,  that 
we  may  continue  to  do  thy  will." 

With  the  last  word  they  raised  their  eyes, 
and  looked  at  each  other  in  wonder.  Each 
had  spoken  in  a  language  never  before  heard 


by  the  others ;  yet  each  understood  perfectly 
what  was  said.  Their  souls  thrilled  with  di- 
vine emotion  ;  for  by  the  miracle  they  recog- 
nized the  Divine  Presence. 


CHAPTER  III 
THE  ATHENIAN   SPEAKS— FAITH 

JO  speak  in  the  style  of  the  period,  the 
meeting  just  described  took  place  in 
the  year  of  Rome  747.  The  month 
was  December,  and  winter  reigned 
over  all  the  regions  east  of  the  Mediterranean. 
Such  as  ride  upon  the  desert  in  this  season  go 
not  far  until  smitten  with  a  keen  appetite.  The 
company  under  the  little  tent  were  not  ex- 
ceptions to  the  rule.  They  were  hungry,  and 
ate  heartily ;  and,  after  the  wine,  they  talked. 

"  To  a  wayfarer  in  a  strange  land  nothing  is 
so  sweet  as  to  hear  his  name  on  the  tongue  of 
a  friend,"  said  the  Egyptian,  who  assumed  to 
be  president  of  the  repast.  "  Before  us  lie 
many  days  of  companionship.  It  is  time  we 
knew  each  other.  So,  if  it  be  agreeable,  he 
who  came  last  shall  be  first  to  speak." 

Then,  slowly  at  first,  like  one  watchful  of 
himself,  the  Greek  began  : 

"  What  I  have  to  tell,  my  brethren,  is  so 
strange  that  I  hardly  know  where  to  begin  or 
what  I  may  with  propriety  speak.  I  do  not 
yet  understand  myself.  The  most  I  am  sure 
of  is  that  I  am  doing  a  Master's  will,  and  that 
the  service  is  a  constant  ecstasy.  When  I 


think  of  the  purpose  I  am  sent  to  fulfil,  there 
is  in  me  a  joy  so  inexpressible  that  I  know  the 
will  is  God's." 

The  good  man  paused,  unable  to  proceed, 
while  the  others,  in  sympathy  with  his  feelings, 
dropped  their  gaze. 

"  Far  to  the  west  of  this,"  he  began  again, 
"  there  is  a  land  which  may  never  be  forgot- 
ten ;  if  only  because  the  world  is  too  much  its 
debtor,  and  because  the  indebtedness  is  for 
things  that  bring  to  men  their  purest  pleasures. 
I  will  say  nothing  of  the  arts,  nothing  of  phi- 
losophy, of  eloquence,  of  poetry,  of  war :  O  my 
brethren,  hers  is  the  glory  which  must  shine 
forever  in  perfected  letters,  by  which  He  we 
go  to  find  and  proclaim  will  be  made  known 
to  all  the  earth.  The  land  I  speak  of  is 
Greece.  I  am  Gaspar,  son  of  Cleanthes  the 
Athenian. 

"  My  people,"  he  continued,  "  were  given 
wholly  to  study,  and  from  them  I  derived  the 
same  passion.  It  happens  that  two  of  our 
philosophers,  the  very  greatest  of  the  many, 
teach,  one  the  doctrine  of  a  Soul  in  every  man, 
and  its  Immortality;  the  other  the  doctrine  of 
One  God,  infinitely  just.  From  the  multitude 
of  subjects  about  which  the  schools  were  dis- 
puting, I  separated  them,  as  alone  worth  the 
labor  of  solution ;  for  I  thought  there  was  a 
relation  between  God  and  the  soul  as  yet  un- 
known. On  this  theme  the  mind  can  reason 
to  a  point,  a  dead,  impassable  wall ;  arrived 
there,  all  that  remains  is  to  stand  and  cry 
aloud  for  help.  So  I  did ;  but  no  voice  came 
18 


to  me  over  the  wall.  In  despair,  I  tore  myself 
from  the  cities  and  the  schools." 

At  these  words  a  grave  smile  of  approval 
lighted  the  gaunt  face  of  the  Hindoo. 

"  In  the  northern  part  of  my  country — in 
Thessaly,"  the  Greek  proceeded  to  say,  "  there 
is  a  mountain  famous  as  the  home  of  the  gods, 
where  Theus,  whom  my  countrymen  believe 
supreme,  has  his  abode ;  Olympus  is  its  name. 
Thither  I  betook  myself.  I  found  a  cave  in  a 
hill  where  the  mountain,  coming  from  the 
west,  bends  to  the  southeast ;  there  I  dwelt, 
giving  myself  up  to  meditation — no,  I  gave 
myself  up  to  waiting  for  what  every  breath  was 
a  prayer  —  for  revelation.  Believing  in  God, 
invisible  yet  supreme,  I  also  believed  it  possi- 
ble so  to  yearn  for  him  with  all  my  soul  that  he 
would  take  compassion  and  give  me  answer." 

"And  he  did — he  did  !"  exclaimed  the  Hin- 
doo, lifting  his  hands  from  the  silken  cloth 
upon  his  lap. 

"  Hear  me,  brethren,"  said  the  Greek,  calm- 
ing himself  with  an  effort.  "  The  door  of  my 
hermitage  looks  over  an  arm  of  the  sea,  over 
the  Thermaic  Gulf.  One  day  I  saw  a  man 
flung  overboard  from  a  ship  sailing  by.  He 
swam  ashore.  I  received  and  took  care  of  him. 
He  was  a  Jew,  learned  in  the  history  and  laws 
of  his  people ;  and  from  him  I  came  to  know 
that  the  God  of  my  prayers  did  indeed  exist, 
and  had  been  for  ages  their  lawmaker,  ruler, 
and  king.  What  was  that  but  the  Revelation 
I  dreamed  of  ?  My  faith  had  not  been  fruit- 
less ;  God  answered  me !" 


"  As  he  does  all  who  cry  to  him  with  such 
faith,"  said  the  Hindoo. 

"  But,  alas !"  the  Egyptian  added,  "  how  few 
are  there  wise  enough  to  know  when  he  an- 
swers them !" 

"  That  was  not  all,"  the  Greek  continued. 
"  The  man  so  sent  to  me  told  me  more.  He 
said  the  prophets  who,  in  the  ages  which  fol- 
lowed the  first  revelation,  walked  and  talked 
with  God,  declared  he  would  come  again.  He 
gave  me  the  names  of  the  prophets,  and  from 
the  sacred  books  quoted  their  very  language. 
He  told  me,  further,  that  the  second  coming 
was  at  hand — was  looked  for  momentarily  in 
Jerusalem." 

The  Greek  paused,  and  the  brightness  of 
his  countenance  faded. 

"  It  is  true,"  he  said,  after  a  little — "  it  is 
true  the  man  told  me  that  as  God  and  the  rev- 
elation of  which  he  spoke  had  been  for  the 
Jews  alone,  so  it  would  be  again.  He  that  was 
to  come  should  be  King  of  the  Jews.  '  Had 
he  nothing  for  the  rest  of  the  world  ?'  I  asked. 
'  No,'  was  the  answer,  given  in  a  proud  voice — 
'  No,  we  are  his  chosen  people.'  The  answer 
did  not  crush  my  hope.  Why  should  such  a 
God  limit  his  love  and  benefaction  to  one  land, 
and,  as  it  were,  to  one  family  ?  I  set  my  heart 
upon  knowing.  At  last  I  broke  through  the 
man's  pride,  and  found  that  his  fathers  had 
been  merely  chosen  servants  to  keep  the  Truth 
alive,  that  the  world  might  at  last  know  it  and 
be  saved.  When  the  Jew  was  gone,  and  I  was 
alone  again,  I  chastened  my  soul  with  a  new 


prayer — that  I  might  be  permitted  to  see  the 
King  when  he  was  come,  and  worship  him. 
One  night  I  sat  by  the  door  of  my  cave  trying 
to  get  nearer  the  mysteries  of  my  existence, 
knowing  which  is  to  know  God  ;  suddenly,  on 
the  sea  below  me,  or  rather  in  the  darkness 
that  covered  its  face,  I  saw  a  star  begin  to 
burn  ;  slowly  it  arose  and  drew  nigh,  and  stood 
over  the  hill  and  above  my  door,  so  that  its 
light  shone  full  upon  me.  I  fell  down,  and 
slept,  and  in  my  dream  I  heard  a  voice  say  : 

" '  O  Gaspar  !  Thy  faith  hath  conquered  ! 
Blessed  art  thou !  With  two  others,  come 
from  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth,  thou 
shalt  see  Him  that  is  promised,  and  be  a  wit- 
ness for  him,  and  the  occasion  of  testimony  in 
his  behalf.  In  the  morning  arise,  and  go  meet 
them,  and  keep  trust  in  the  Spirit  that  shall 
guide  thee.' 

"  And  in  the  morning  I  awoke  with  the 
Spirit  as  a  light  within  me  surpassing  that  of 
the  sun.  I  put  off  my  hermit's  garb,  and 
dressed  myself  as  of  old.  From  a  hiding-place 
I  took  the  treasure  which  I  had  brought  from 
the  city.  A  ship  went  sailing  past.  I  hailed 
it,  was  taken  aboard,  and  landed  at  Antioch. 
There  I  bought  the  camel  and  his  furniture. 
Through  the  gardens  and  orchards  that  enam- 
el the  banks  of  the  Orontes,  I  journeyed  to 
Emesa,  Damascus,  Bostra,  and  Philadelphia; 
thence  hither.  And  so,  O  brethren,  you  have 
my  story.  Let  me  now  listen  to  you." 


CHAPTER   IV 
SPEECH   OF  THE  HINDOO — LOVE 

)HE  Egyptian  and  the  Hindoo  looked 
at  each  other ;  the  former  waved  his 
hand  ;  the  latter  bowed,  and  began  : 
"Our  brother  has  spoken  well. 
May  my  words  be  as  wise." 

He  broke  off,  reflected  a  moment,  then  re- 
sumed : 

"  You  may  know  me,  brethren,  by  the  name 
of  Melchior.  I  speak  to  you  in  a  language 
which,  if  not  the  oldest  in  the  world,  was  at 
least  the  soonest  to  be  reduced  to  letters — I 
mean  the  Sanscrit  of  India.  I  am  a  Hindoo 
by  birth.  My  people  were  the  first  to  walk  in 
the  fields  of  knowledge,  first  to  divide  them.first 
to  make  them  beautiful.  Whatever  may  here- 
after befall,  the  four  Vedas  must  live,  for  they 
are  the  primal  fountains  of  religion  and  use- 
ful intelligence.  From  them  were  derived  the 
Upa- Vedas,  which,  delivered  by  Brahma,  treat 
of  medicine,  archery,  architecture,  music,  and 
the  four-and-sixty  mechanical  arts ;  the  Ved- 
Angas,  revealed  by  inspired  saints,  and  devoted 
to  astronomy,  grammar,  prosody,  pronuncia- 
tion, charms  and  incantations,  religious  rites 
and  ceremonies ;  the  Up-Angas,  written  by  the 
sage  Vyasa,  and  given  to  cosmogony,  chronol- 
ogy, and  geography ;  therein  also  are  the  Ra- 
mayana  and  the  Mahabharata,  heroic  poems, 


designed  for  the  perpetuation  of  our  gods  and 
demi-gods.  Such,  O  brethren,  are  the  Great 
Shastras,  or  books  of  sacred  ordinances.  They 
are  dead  to  me  now;  yet  through  all  time  they 
will  serve  to  illustrate  the  budding  genius  of 
my  race.  They  were  promises  of  quick  per- 
fection. Ask  you  why  the  promises  failed  ? 
Alas !  the  books  themselves  closed  all  the 
gates  of  progress.  Under  pretext  of  care  for 
the  creature,  their  authors  imposed  the  fatal 
principle  that  a  man  must  not  address  himself 
to  discovery  or  invention,  as  Keaven  had  pro- 
vided him  all  things  needful.  When  that  con- 
dition became  a  sacred  law,  the  lamp  of  Hin- 
doo genius  was  let  down  a  well,  where  ever 
since  it  has  lighted  narrow  walls  and  bitter 
waters. 

"These  allusions,  brethren,  are  not  from 
pride,  as  you  will  understand  when  I  tell  you 
that  the  Shastras  teach  a  Supreme  God  called 
Brahm ;  also,  that  the  Puranas,  or  sacred  po- 
ems of  the  Up-Angas,  tell  us  of  Virtue  and 
Good  Works,  and  of  the  Soul.  So,  if  my  broth- 
er will  permit  the  saying  " — the  speaker  bowed 
deferentially  to  the  Greek — "ages  before  his 
people  were  known,  the  two  great  ideas,  God 
and  the  Soul,  had  absorbed  all  the  forces  of 
the  Hindoo  mind.  In  further  explanation,  let 
me  say  that  Brahm  is  taught,  by  the  same  sa- 
cred books,  as  a  Triad — Brahma,  Vishnu,  and 
Shiva.  Of  these,  Brahma  is  said  to  have  been 
the  author  of  our  race ;  which,  in  course  of 
creation,  he  divided  into  four  castes.  First,  he 
peopled  the  worlds  below  and  the  heavens 


above ;  next,  he  made  the  earth  ready  for  ter- 
restrial spirits ;  then  from  his  mouth  proceed- 
ed the  Brahman  caste,  nearest  in  likeness  to 
himself,  highest  and  noblest,  sole  teachers  of 
the  Vedas,  which  at  the  same  time  flowed  from 
jhis  lipo  in  finished  state,  perfect  in  all  useful 
^knowledge.     From  his  arms  next  issued  the 
Kshatriya,  or  warriors ;  from   his  breast,  the 
seat  of  life,  came  the  Vaisya,  or  producers — 
shepherds,  farmers,  merchants ;  from  his  foot, 
in  sign  of  degradation,  sprang  the  Sudra,  or 
x  serviles,  doomed  to  menial  duties  for  the  oth- 
er classes — serfs,  domestics,  laborers,  artisans. 


Take  notice,  further,  that  the  law,  so  born  with 
them,  forbade  a  man  of  one  caste  becoming  a 
&,':  member  of  another ;  the  Brahman  could  not 
ff^  enter  a  lower  order ;  if  he  violated  the  laws  of 
his  own  grade,  he  became  an  outcast,  lost  to 
all  but  outcasts  like  himself." 

At  this  point,  the  imagination  of  the  Greek, 
flashing  forward  upon  all  the  consequences  of 
such  a  degradation,  overcame  his  eager  atten- 
tion, and  he  exclaimed,  "  In  such  a  state,  O 
brethren,  what  mighty  need  of  a  loving  God  !" 

"  Yes,"  added  the  Egyptian, "  of  a  loving  God 
like  ours." 

The  brows  of  the  Hindoo  knit  painfully; 
when  the  emotion  was  spent,  he  proceeded,  in 
a  softened  voice. 

"  I  was  born  a  Brahman.  My  life,  conse- 
quently, was  ordered  down  to  its  least  act,  its 
last  hour.  My  first  draught  of  nourishment ; 
the  giving  me  my  compound  name ;  taking  me 
out  the  first  time  to  see  the  sun ;  investing  me 
24 


with  the  triple  thread  by  which  I  became  one 
of  the  twice-born  ;  my  induction  into  the  first 
order  —  were  all  celebrated  with  sacred  texts 
and  rigid  ceremonies.  I  might  not  walk,  eat. 
drink,  or  sleep  without  danger  of  violating  a 
rule.  And  the  penalty,  O  brethren,  the  penal- 
ty was  to  my  soul !  According  to  the  degrees 
of  omission,  my  soul  went  to  one  of  the  heav- 
ens— Indra's  the  lowest,  Brahma's  the  highest ; 
or  it  was  driven  back  to  become  the  life  of  a 
worm,  a  fly,  a  fish,  or  a  brute.  Fhe  reward  for 
perfect  observance  was  Beatitude,  or  absorp- 
tion into  the  being  of  Brahm,  which  was  not 
existence  as  much  as  absolute  rest." 

The  Hindoo  gave  himself  a  moment's 
thought ;  proceeding,  he  said  :  "  The  part  of  a 
Brahman's  life  called  the  first  order  is  his  stu- 
dent life.  When  I  was  ready  to  enter  the  sec- 
ond order — that  is  to  say,  when  I  was  ready  to 
marry  and  become  a  householder  —  I  ques- 
tioned everything,  even  Brahm ;  I  was  a  her- 
etic. From  the  depths  of  the  well  I  had  dis- 
covered a  light  above,  and  yearned  to  go  up 
and  see  what  all  it  shone  upon.  At  last — ah, 
with  what  years  of  toil ! — I  stood  in  the  per- 
fect day,  and  beheld  the  principle  of  life,  the 
element  of  religion,  the  link  between  the  soul 
and  God — Love !" 

The  shrunken  face  of  the  good  man  kindled 
visibly,  and  he  clasped  his  hands  with  force. 
A  silence  ensued,  during  which  the  others 
looked  at  him,  the  Greek  through  tears.  At 
length  he  resumed : 

"  The  happiness  of  love  is  in  action ;  its  test 


is  what  one  is  willing  to  do  for  others.  I  could 
not  rest.  Brahm  had  filled  the  world  with  so 
much  wretchedness.  The  Sudra  appealed  to 
me;  so  did  the  countless  devotees  and  vic- 
tims. The  island  of  Ganga  Lagor  lies  where 
the  sacred  waters  of  the  Ganges  disappear  in 
the  Indian  Ocean.  Thither  I  betook  myself. 
In  the  shade  of  the  temple  built  there  to  the 
sage  Kapila,  in  a  union  of  prayers  with  the  dis- 
ciples whom  the  sanctified  memory  of  the  holy 
man  keeps  around  his  house,  I  thought  to  find 
rest.  But  twice  every  year  came  pilgrimages 
of  Hindoos  seeking  the  purification  of  the 
waters.  Their  misery  strengthened  my  love. 
Against  its  impulse  to  speak  I  clenched  my 
jaws ;  for  one  word  against  Brahm  or  the 
Triad  or  the  Shastras  would  doom  me;  one 
act  of  kindness  to  the  outcast  Brahmans  who 
now  and  then  dragged  themselves  to  die  on 
the  burning  sands — a  blessing  said,  a  cup  of 
water  given — and  I  became  one  of  them,  lost 
to  family,  country,  privileges,  caste.  The  love 
conquered !  I  spoke  to  the  disciples  in  the 
temple ;  they  drove  me  out.  I  spoke  to  the 
pilgrims ,  they  stoned  me  from  the  island.  On 
the  highways  I  attempted  to  preach ;  my  hear- 
ers fled  from  me,  or  sought  my  life.  In  all 
India,  finally,  there  was  not  a  place  in  which  I 
could  find  peace  or  safety — not  even  among 
the  outcasts ;  for,  though  fallen,  they  were  still 
believers  in  Brahm.  In  my  extremity,  I  looked 
for  a  solitude  in  which  to  hide  from  all  but 
God.  I  followed  the  Ganges  to  its  source,  far 
up  in  the  Himalayas.  When  I  entered  the  pass 


at  Hurdwar,  where  the  river,  in  unstained  pu- 
rity, leaps  to  its  course  through  the  muddy 
lowlands,  I  prayed  for  my  race,  and  thought 
myself  lost  to  them  forever.  Through  gorges, 
over  cliffs,  across  glaciers,  by  peaks  that  seemed 
star-high,  I  made  my  way  to  the  Lang  Tso,  a 
lake  of  marvellous  beauty,  asleep  at  the  feet 
of  the  Tise  Gangri,  the  Gurla,  and  the  Kailas 
Parbot,  giants  which  flaunt  their  crowns  of 
snow  everlastingly  in  the  face  of  the  sun. 
There,  in  the  centre  of  the  earth,  where  the 
Indus,  Ganges,  and  Brahmapootra  rise  to  run 
their  different  courses ;  where  mankind  took 
up  their  first  abode,  and  separated  to  replete 
the  world,  leaving  Balk,  the  mother  of  cities, 
to  attest  the  great  fact ;  where  Nature,  gone 
back  to  its  primeval  condition,  and  secure  in 
its  immensities,  invites  the  sage  and  the  exile, 
with  promise  of  safety  to  the  one  and  solitude 
to  the  other — there  I  went  to  abide  alone  with 
God,  praying,  fasting,  waiting  for  death." 

Again  the  voice  fell,  and  the  bony  hands 
met  in  a  fervent  clasp. 

"  One  night  I  walked  by  the  shores  of  the 
lake,  and  spoke  to  the  listening  silence, '  When 
will  God  come  and  claim  his  own  ?  Is  there 
to  be  no  redemption  ?'  Suddenly  a  light  be- 
gan to  glow  tremulously  out  on  the  water; 
soon  a  star  arose,  and  moved  towards  me,  and 
stood  overhead.  The  brightness  stunned  me. 
While  I  lay  upon  the  ground,  I  heard  a  voice 
^  of  infinite  sweetness  say, '  Thy  love  hath  con- 
quered. Blessed  art  thou,  O  son  of  India  h 
The  redemption  is  at  hand.  With  two  others, 


from  far  quarters  of  the  earth,  thou  shalt  see 
the  Redeemer,  and  be  a  witness  that  he  hath 
come.  In  the  morning  arise,  and  go  meet 
them  ;  and  put  all  thy  trust  in  the  Spirit  which 
shall  guide  thee.' 

"  And  from  that  time  the  light  has  stayed 
with  me  ;  so  I  knew  it  was  the  visible  presence 
of  the  Spirit.  In  the  morning  I  started  to  the 
world  by  the  way  I  had  come.  In  a  cleft  of 
the  mountain  I  found  a  stone  of  vast  worth, 
which  I  sold  in  Kurd  war.  By  Lahore,  and 
Cabool,  and  Yezd,  I  came  to  Ispahan.  There 
I  bought  the  camel,  and  thence  was  led  to 
Bagdad,  not  waiting  for  caravans.  Alone  I 
travelled,  fearless,  for  the  Spirit  was  with  me, 
and  is  with  me  yet.  What  glory  is  ours,  O 
brethren!  We  are  to  see  the  Redeemer — to 
speak  to  him — to  worship  him  ?  I  am  done." 


CHAPTER  V 
THE  EGYPTIAN'S  STORY — GOOD   WORKS 

|HE  vivacious  Greek  broke  forth  in 
expressions  of  joy  and  congratula- 
tions ;  after  which  the  Egyptian 
said,  with  characteristic  gravity : 
"  I  salute  you,  my  brother.  You  have  suf- 
fered much,  and  I  rejoice  in  your  triumph.  If 
you  are  both  pleased  to  hear  me,  I  will  now 
tell  you  who  I  am,  and  how  I  came  to  be  called. 
Wait  for  me  a  moment." 

He  went  out  and  tended  the  camels ;  corn- 
back,  he  resumed  his  seat. 

38 


"  Your  words,  brethren,  were  of  the  Spirit," 
he  said,  in  commencement ;  "  and  the  Spirit 
gives  me  to  understand  them.  You  each  spoke 
particularly  of  your  countries;  in  that  there 
was  a  great  object,  which  I  will  explain ;  but 
to  make  the  interpretation  complete,  let  me 
first  speak  of  myself  and  my  people.  I  am 
Balthasar  the  Egyptian." 

The  last  words  were  spoken  quietly,  but 
with  so  much  dignity  that  both  listeners 
bowed  to  the  speaker. 

"  There  are  many  distinctions  I  might  claim 
for  my  race,"  he  contined  ;  "  but  I  will  content 
myself  with  one.  History  began  with  us.  We 
were  the  first  to  perpetuate  events  by  records 
kept.  So  we  have  no  traditions ;  and  instead  ; 
of  poetry,  we  offer  you  certainty.  On  the  fa- 
c,ades  of  palaces  and  temples,  on  obelisks,  on 
the  inner  walls  of  tombs,  we  wrote  the  names 
of  our  kings,  and  what  they  did ;  and  to  the 
delicate  papyri  we  intrusted  the  wisdom  of  our 
philosophers  and  the  secrets  of  our  religion — 
all  the  secrets  but  one,  whereof  I  will  pres- 
ently speak.  Older  than  the  Vedas  of  Para- 
Brahm  or  the  Up-Angas  of  Vyasa,  O  Mel- 
chior ;  older  than  the  songs  of  Homer  or  the  ^T 
metaphysics  of  Plato,  O  my  Caspar ;  older  than  *" 
the  sacred  books  or  kings  of  the  people  of 
China,  or  those  of  Siddartha,  son  of  the  beau- 
tiful Maya ;  older  than  the  Genesis  of  Mosche  ^ 
the  Hebrew  —  oldest  of  human  records  are 
the  writings  of  Menes,  our  first  king."  Paus- 
ing an  instant,  he  fixed  his  large  eyes  kindly 
upon  the  Greek,  saying,  "  In  the  youth  of  Hel- 
*) 


las,  who,  O  Caspar,  were  the  teachers  of  her 
teachers?" 

The  Greek  bowed,  smiling. 

"  By  those  records,"  Balthasar  continued, 
"we  know  that  when  the  fathers  came  from 
the  far  East,  from  the  region  of  the  birth  of 
the  three  sacred  rivers,  from  the  centre  of  the 
earth  —  the  Old  Iran  of  which  you  spoke,  O 
Melchior — came  bringing  with  them  the  his- 
tory of  the  world  before  the  Flood,  and  of  the 
Flood  itself,  as  given  to  the  Aryans  by  the 
sons  of  Noah,  they  taught  God,  the  Creator 
and  the  Beginning,  and  the  Soul  deathless  as 
God.  When  the  duty  which  calls  us  now  is 
happily  done,  if  you  choose  to  go  with  me,  I 
will  show  you  the  sacred  library  of  our  priest- 
hood ;  among  others,  the  Book  of  the  Dead, 
in  which  is  the  ritual  to  be  observed  by  the 
soul  after  Death  has  despatched  it  on  its 
journey  to  judgment.  The  ideas — God  and 
the  Immortal  Soul  —  were  borne  to  Mizraim 
over  the  desert,  and  by  him  to  the  banks  of 
the  Nile.  They  were  then  in  their  purity, 
easy  of  understanding,  as  what  God  intends 
for  our  happiness  always  is ;  so,  also,  was  the 
first  worship — a  song  and  a  prayer  natural  to 
a  soul  joyous,  hopeful,  and  in  love  with  its 
Maker." 

Here  the  Greek  threw  up  his  hands,  ex- 
claiming, "  Oh !  the  light  deepens  within  me !" 
"  And  in  me  I"  said  the  Hindoo,  with  equal 
fervor. 

The  Egyptian  regarded  them  benignantly, 
then  went  on,  saying, "  Religion  is  merely  the 


law  which  binds  man  to  his  Creator :  in  purity 
it  has  but  these  elements — God,  the  Soul,  and 
their  Mutual  Recognition ;  out  of  which,  when      ^ 
put  in  practice,  spring  Worship,  Love,  and  Re- 
ward.   This  law,  like  all  others  of  divine  origin 
— like  that,  for  instance,  which  binds  the  earth, 
to  the  sun — was  perfected  in  the  beginning  by 
its  Author.     Such,  my  brothers,  was  the  relig-  - 
ion  of  the  first  family ;  such  was  the  religion 
of  our  father  Mizraim,  who  could  not  have*-./ 
been  blind  to  the  formula  of  creation,  nowhere    | 
so  discernible  as  in  the  first  faith  and  the  ear- 
liest worship.     Perfection  is  God ;  simplicity 
is  perfection.    The  curse  of  curses  is  that  men 
will  not  let  truths  like  these  alone." 

He  stopped,  as  if  considering  in  what  man- 
ner to  continue. 

"Many  nations  have  loved  the  sweet  wa- 
ters of  the  Nile,"  he  said  next ;  "  the  Ethiopian,, 
the  Pali  -  Putra,  the  Hebrew,  the  Assyrian, 
the  Persian,  the  Macedonian,  the  Roman — of  \ 
whom  all,  except  the  Hebrew,  have  at  one  <( 
time  or  another  been  its  masters.  So  much 
coming  and  going  of  peoples  corrupted  the  [ 
old  Mizraimic  faith.  The  Valley  of  Palms  be- 1 
came  a  Valley  of  Gods.  The  Supreme  One- ' 
was  divided  into  eight,  each  personating  a 
creative  principle  in  nature,  with  Ammon-Re^l 
at  the  head.  Then  Isis  and  Osiris,  and  their 
circle,  representing  water,  fire,  air,  and  other 
forces,  were  invented.  Still  the  multiplication 
went  on  until  we  had  another  order,  suggest- 
ed by  human  qualities,  such  as  strength,  knowl- 
edge, love,  and  the  like." 


-"     iv«f^'   U 

^s^j 
" ;^ 

'  .:if¥; 


"  In  all  which  there  was  the  old  folly !"  cried 
the  Greek,  impulsively.  "  Only  the  things  out 
of  reach  remain  as  they  came  to  us." 

The  Egyptian  bowed,  and  proceeded  : 

"  Yet  a  little  further,  O  my  brethren,  a  lit- 
tle further,  before  I  come  to  myself.  What 
we  go  to  will  seem  all  the  holier  of  compar- 
ison with  what  is  and  has  been.  The  records 
show  that  Mizraim  found  the  Nile  in  posses- 
sion of  the  Ethiopians,  who  were  spread  thence 
through  the  African  desert;  people  of  rich, 
fantastic  genius,  wholly  given  to  the  worship 
of  nature.  The  poetic  Persian  sacrificed  to 
the  sun,  as  the  completest  image  of  Ormuzd, 
his  God;  the  devout  children  of  the  far  East 
carved  their  deities  out  of  wood  and  ivory; 
but  the  Ethiopian,  without  writing,  without 
books,  without  mechanical  faculty  of  any  kind, 
quieted  his  soul  by  the  worship  of  animals, 
birds,  and  insects,  holding  the  cat  sacred  to 
Re,  the  bull  to  Isis,  the  beetle  to  Pthah.  A 
long  struggle  against  their  rude  faith  ended  in 
its  adoption  as  the  religion  of  the  new  empire. 
Then  rose  the  mighty  monuments  that  cum- 
ber the  river -bank  and  the  desert  —  obelisk, 
labyrinth,  pyramid,  and  tomb  of  king,  blent 
with  tomb  of  crocodile.  Into  such  deep  de- 
basement, O  brethren,  the  sons  of  the  Aryan 
fell !" 

Here,  for  the  first  time,  the  calmness  of  the 
Egyptian  forsook  him:  though  his  counte- 
nance remained  impassive,  his  voice  gave  way. 

"  Do  not  too  much  despise  my  countrymen," 
he  began  again.  "  They  did  not  all  forget 

3* 


THE  ADORATION  OF  THE  SHEPHERDS 

(From  a  painting  by   Murillo  in  the   Prado,  Madrid) 


God.  I  said  awhile  ago,  you  may  remember, 
that  to  papyri  we  intrusted  all  the  secrets  of 
our  religion  except  one ;  of  that  I  will  now 
tell  you.  We  had  as  king  once  a  certain  Pha- 
raoh, who  lent  himself  to  all  manner  of  changes 
and  additions.  To  establish  the  new  system, 
he  strove  to  drive  the  old  entirely  out  of  mind. 
The  Hebrews  then  dwelt  with  us  as  slaves. 
They  clung  to  their  God ;  and  when  the  per- 
secution became  intolerable,  they  were  deliv- 
ered in  a  manner  never  to  be  forgotten.  I 
speak  from  the  records  now.  Mosche,  himself 
a  Hebrew,  came  to  the  palace,  and  demand- 
ed permission  for  the  slaves,  then  millions  in 
number,  to  leave  the  country.  The  demand 
was  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  God  of  Israel. 
Pharaoh  refused.  Hear  what  followed.  First, 
all  the  water,  that  in  the  lakes  and  rivers,  like 
that  in  the  wells  and  vessels,  turned  to  blood. 
Yet  the  monarch  refused.  Then  frogs  came 
up  and  covered  all  the  land.  Still  he  was 
firm.  Then  Mosche  threw  ashes  in  the  air, 
and  a  plague  attacked  the  Egyptians.  Next, 
all  the  cattle,  except  of  the  Hebrews,  were 
struck  dead.  Locusts  devoured  the  green 
things  of  the  valley.  At  noon  the  day  was 
turned  into  a  darkness  so  thick  that  lamps 
would  not  burn.  Finally,  in  the  night  all  the 
first-born  of  the  Egyptians  died ;  not  even 
Pharaoh's  escaped.  Then  he  yielded.  But 
when  the  Hebrews  were  gone  he  followed 
them  with  his  army.  At  the  last  moment  the 
sea  was  divided,  so  that  the  fugitives  passed 
it  dry-shod.  When  the  pursuers  drove  in  after 


them,  the  waves  rushed  back  and  drowned 
horse,  foot,  charioteers,  and  king.  You  spoke 
of  revelation,  my  Gaspar — " 

The  blue  eyes  of  the  Greek  sparkled. 

"  I  had  the  story  from  the  Jew,"  he  cried. 
"  You  confirm  it,  O  Balthasar !" 

"Yes,  but  through  me  Egypt  speaks,  not 
Mosche.  I  interpret  the  marbles.  The  priests 
of  that  time  wrote  in  their  way  what  they 
witnessed,  and  the  revelation  has  lived.  So 
I  come  to  the  one  unrecorded  secret.  In  my 
country,  brethren,  we  have,  from  the  day  of 
the  unfortunate  Pharaoh,  always  had  two  re- 
ligions— one  private,  the  other  public ;  one  of 
many  gods,  practised  by  the  people ;  the  other 
of  one  God,  cherished  only  by  the  priesthood. 
Rejoice  with  me,  O  brothers  !  All  the  tramp- 
ling by  the  many  nations,  all  the  harrowing  by 
kings,  all  the  inventions  of  enemies,  all  the 
changes  of  time,  have  been  in  vain.  Like  a 
seed  under  the  mountains  waiting  its  hour, 
the  glorious  Truth  has  lived ;  and  this — this  is 
its  day !" 

The  wasted  frame  of  the  Hindoo  trembled 
with  delight,  and  the  Greek  cried  aloud, 

"  It  seems  to  rre  the  very  desert  is  singing." 

From  a  gurglet  of  water  near  by  the  Egyp- 
tian took  a  draught,  and  proceeded : 

"  I  was  born  at  Alexandria,  a  prince  and  a 
priest,  and  had  the  education  usual  to  my  class. 
But  very  early  I  became  discontented.  Part 
of  the  faith  imposed  was  that  after  death,  upon 
the  destruction  of  the  body,  the  soul  at  once 
began  its  former  progression  from  the  lowest 


up  to  humanity,  the  highest  and  last  exist- 
ence ;  and  that  without  reference  to  conduct  in 
the  mortal  life.  When  I  heard  of  the  Persian's 
Realm  of  Light,  his  Paradise  across  the  bridge 
Chinevat,  where  only  the  good  go,  the  thought 
haunted  me ;  insomuch  that  in  the  day,  as  in 
the  night,  I  brooded  over  the  comparative 
ideas  Eternal  Transmigration  and  Eternal  Life, 
in  Heaven.  If,  as  my  teacher  taught,  God  was 
just,  why  was  there  no  distinction  between  the 
good  and  the  bad  ?  At  length  it  became  clear  __ 
to  me,  a  certainty,  a  corollary  of  the  law  to 
which  I  reduced  pure  religion,  that  death  was 
only  the  point  of  separation  at  which  the 
wicked  are  left  or  lost,  and  the  faithful  rise  to 
a  higher  life ;  not  the  nirvana  of  Buddha,  or 
the  negative  rest  of  Brahma,  O  Melchior ;  nor 
the  better  condition  in  hell,  which  is  all  of 
Heaven  allowed  by  the  Olympic  faith,  O  Gas- 
par;  but  life — life  active,  joyous,  everlasting — 
LIFE  WITH  GOD  !  The  discovery  led  to  an- 
other inquiry.  Why  should  the  Truth  be  lon- 
ger kept  a  secret  for  the  selfish  solace  of  the 
priesthood  ?  The  reason  for  the  suppression 
was  gone.  Philosophy  had  at  least  brought  us 
toleration.  In  Egypt  we  had  Rome  instead  of 
Rameses.  One  day,  in  the  Brucheium,  the 
most  splendid  and  crowded  quarter  of  Alex- 
andria, I  arose  and  preached.  The  East  and 
West  contributed  to  my  audience.  Students 
going  to  the  Library,  priests  from  the  Serape- 
ion,  idlers  from  the  Museum,  patrons  of  the 
race-course,  countrymen  from  the  Rhacotis — 
a  multitude — stopped  to  hear  me.  I  preached 


God,  the  Soul,  Right  and  Wrong,  and  Heav- 
en, the  reward  of  a  virtuous  life.  You,  O  Mel- 
chior,  were  stoned  ;  my  auditors  first  wondered, 
then  laughed.  I  tried  again ;  they  pelted  me 
with  epigrams,  covered  my  God  with  ridicule, 
and  darkened  my  Heaven  with  mockery.  Not 
to  linger  needlessly,  I  fell  before  them." 

The  Hindoo  here  drew  a  long  sigh,  as  he 
said, "The  enemy  of  man  is  man,  my  brother." 

Balthasar  lapsed  into  silence. 

"I  gave  much  thought  to  finding  the  cause 
of  my  failure,  and  at  last  succeeded,"  he  said, 
upon  beginning  again.  "  Up  the  river,  a  day's 
journey  from  the  city,  there  is  a  village  of 
herdsmen  and  gardeners.  I  took  a  boat  and 
went  there.  In  the  evening  I  called  the  peo- 
ple together,  men  and  women,  the  poorest  of 
the  poor.  I  preached  to  them  exactly  as  I 
had  preached  in  the  Brucheium.  They  did 
not  laugh.  Next  evening  I  spoke  again,  and 
they  believed  and  rejoiced,  and  carried  the 
news  abroad.  At  the  third  meeting  a  society 
was  formed  for  prayer.  I  returned  to  the  city 
then.  Drifting  down  the  river,  under  the  stars, 
which  never  seemed  so  bright  and  so  near,  I 
evolved  this  lesson  :  To  begin  a  reform,  go  not 
into  the  places  of  the  great  and  rich ;  go  rath- 
er to  those  whose  cups  of  happiness  are  empty 
— to  the  poor  and  humble.  And  then  I  laid  a 
plan  and  devoted  my  life.  As  a  first  step,  I 
secured  my  vast  property,  so  that  the  income 
would  be  certain,  and  always  at  call  for  the  re- 
lief of  the  suffering.  From  that  day,  O  breth- 
ren, I  travelled  up  and  down  the  Nile,  in  the 
36 


villages,  and  to  all  the  tribes,  preaching  One 
God,  a  righteous  life,  and  reward  in  Heaven. 
I  have  done  good — it  does  not  become  me  to 
say  how  much.  I  also  know  that  part  of  the 
world  to  be  ripe  for  the  reception  of  Him  we 
go  to  find. 

A  flush  suffused  the  swarthy  cheek  of 
speaker ;  but  he  overcame  the  feeling, 
continued  : 

"  The  years  so  given.  O  my  brothers, 
troubled  by  one  thought — When  I  was  gone, 
what  would  become  of  the  cause  I  had  started  ? 
Was  it  to  end  with  me  ?  I  had  dreamed  many 
times  of  organization  as  a  fitting  crown  for 
work.  To  hide  nothing  from  you,  I  had  tried 
to  effect  it,  and  failed.  Brethren,  the  world  i 
now  in  the  condition  that,  to  restore  the  old1 
Mizraimic  faith,  the  reformer  must  have  a  more 
than  human  sanction ;  he  must  not  merely;  ,„ 
come  in  God's  name,  he  must  have  the  proofs^ 
subject  to  his  word ;  he  must  demonstrate  all 
he  says;  even  God.  So  preoccupied  is  the 
mind  with  myths  and  systems ;  so  much  do 
false  deities  crowd  every  place — earth,  air,  sky; 
so  have  they  become  of  everything  a  part,  that 
return  to  the  first  religion  can  only  be  along 
bloody  paths,  through  fields  of  persecution; 
that  is  to  say,  the  converts  must  be  willing  to 
die  rather  than  recant.  And  who  in  this  age 
can  carry  the  faith  of  men  to  such  a  point  but 
God  himself  ?  To  redeem  the  race — I  do  not 
mean  to  destroy  it — to  redeem  the  race,  he 
must  make  himself  once  more  manifest ;  HE 

MUST  COME  IN  PERSON." 
37 


Intense  emotion  seized  the  three. 

"  Are  we  not  going  to  find  him  ?"  exclaimed 
the  Greek. 

"  You  understand  why  I  failed  in  the  attempt 
to  organize,"  said  the  Egyptian,  when  the  spell 
was  past.  "  I  had  not  the  sanction.  To  know 
that  my  work  must  be  lost  made  me  intoler- 
ably wretched.  I  believed  in  prayer ;  and  to 
make  my  appeals  pure  and  strong,  like  you, 
my  brethren,  I  went  out  of  the  beaten  ways,  I 
went  where  man  had  not  been,  where  only  God 
was.  Above  the  fifth  cataract,  above  the  meet- 
ing of  rivers  in  Sennar,  up  the  Bahr  el  Abiad, 
into  the  far  unknown  of  Africa,  I  went.  There, 
in  the  morning,  a  mountain  blue  as  the  sky 
flings  a  cooling  shadow  wide  over  the  western 
desert,  and,  with  its  cascades  of  melted  snow, 
feeds  a  broad  lake  nestling  at  its  base  on  the 
east.  The  lake  is  the  mother  of  the  great  river. 
For  a  year  and  more  the  mountain  gave  me  a 
home.  The  fruit  of  the  palm  fed  my  body, 
prayer  my  spirit.  One  night  I  walked  in  the 
orchard  close  by  the  little  sea.  '  The  world  is 
dying.  When  wilt  thou  come?  Why  may  I 
not  see  the  redemption,  O  God  ? '  So  I  prayed. 
The  glassy  water  was  sparkling  with  stars. 
One  of  them  seemed  to  leave  its  place,  and 
rise  to  the  surface,  where  it  became  a  brilliancy 
burning  to  the  eyes.  Then  it  moved  towards 
me,  and  stood  over  my  head,  apparently  in 
hand's  reach.  I  fell  down  and  hid  my  face.  A 
voice,  not  of  the  earth,  said, '  Thy  good  works 
have  conquered.  Blessed  art  thou,  O  son  of 
Mizraim!  The  redemption  cometh.  With  two 


others,  from  the  remotenesses  of  the  world, 
thou  shalt  see  the  Saviour,  and  testify  for  him. 
In  the  morning  arise,  and  go  meet  them.  And 
when  ye  have  all  come  to  the  holy  city  of  Jeru- 
salem, ask  of  the  people,  Where  is  he  that  is 
born  King  of  the  Jews  ?  for  we  have  seen  his 
star  in  the  East,  and  are  sent  to  worship  him. 
Put  all  thy  trust  in  the  Spirit  which  will  guide 
thee.' 

"  And  the  light  became  an  inward  illumina- 
tion not  to  be  doubted,  and  has  stayed  with 
me,  a  governor  and  a  guide.  It  led  me  down 
the  river  to  Memphis,  where  I  made  ready  for 
the  desert.  I  bought  my  camel,  and  came 
hither  without  rest,  by  way  of  Suez  and  Kufi- 
leh,  and  up  through  the  lands  of  Moab  and  Am- 
mon.  God  is  with  us,  O  my  brethren  !" 

He  paused,  and  thereupon,  with  a  prompting 
not  their  own,  they  all  arose,  and  looked  at 
each  other. 

"  I  said  there  was  a  purpose  in  the  particu- 
larity with  which  we  described  our  peoples  and 
their  histories,"  so  the  Egyptian  proceeded. 
"  He  we  go  to  find  was  called  '  King  of  the 
Jews ;'  by  that  name  we  are  bidden  to  ask  for 
him.  But,  now  that  we  have  met,  and  heard 
from  each  other,  we  may  know  him  to  be  the 
Redeemer,  not  of  the  Jews  alone,  but  of  all  the 
nations  of  the  earth.  The  patriarch  who  sur- 
vived the  Flood  had  with  him  three  sons,  and 
their  families,  by  whom  the  world  was  repeo- 
pled.  From  the  old  Aryana-VaSjo,  the  well- 
remembered  Region  of  Delight  in  the  heart 
of  Asia,  they  parted.  India  and  the  far  East 


received  the  children  of  the  first;  tr 
scendants  of  the  youngest,  through  the  North.^J 
streamed  into  Europe;  those  of  the  second 
overflowed  the  deserts  about  the  Red  Sea, 
passing  into  Africa ;  and  though  most  of  the 
iatter  are  yet  dwellers  in  shifting  tents,  some 
of  them  became  builders  along  the  Nile." 

By  a  simultaneous  impulse  the  three  joined 
hands. 

"  Could  anything  be  more  divinely  ordered  ?" 
Balthasar  continued.  "  When  we  have  found 
the  Lord,  the  brothers,  and  all  the  generations 
that  have  succeeded  them,  will  kneel  to  him 
in  homage  with  us.  And  when  we  part  to 
go  our  separate  ways,  the  world  will  have 
learned  a  new  lesson — that  Heaven  may  be 
won,  not  by  the  sword,  not  by  human  wisdom, 
but  by  Faith,  Love,  and  Good  Works." 

There  was  silence,  broken  by  sighs  and  sanc- 
tified with  tears ;  for  the  joy  that  filled  them 
might  not  be  stayed.  It  was  the  unspeakable 
joy  of  souls  on  the  shores  of  the  River  of  Life, 
resting  with  the  Redeemed  in  God's  presence. 

Presently  their  hands  fell  apart,  and  together 
they  went  out  of  the  tent.  The  desert  was 
still  as  the  sky.  The  sun  was  sinking  fast.  The 
camels  slept. 

A  little  while  after,  the  tent  was  struck,  and, 
with  the  remains  of  the  repast,  restored  to  the 
cot;  then  the  friends  mounted,  and  set  out 
single  file,  led  by  the  Egyptian.  Their  course 
was  due  west,  into  the  chilly  night.  The  cam- 
els swung  forward  in  steady  trot,  keeping  the 
line  and  the  intervals  so  exactly  that  those 


following  seemed  to  tread  in  the  tracks  of 
the  leader.     The  riders  spoke  not  once. 

By-and-by  the  moon  came  up.  And  as  the 
three  tall  white  figures  sped,  with  soundless 
tread,  through  the  opalescent  light,  they  ap- 
peared like  spectres  flying  from  hateful  shad- 
ows. Suddenly,  in  the  air  before  them,  not 
farther  up  than  a  low  hill-top,  flared  a  lambent 
flame ;  as  they  looked  at  it,  the  apparition  con- 
tracted into  a  focus  of  dazzling  lustre.  Their 
hearts  beat  fast ;  their  souls  thrilled  ;  and  they 
shouted  as  with  one  voice, "  The  Star !  the 
Star !  God  is  with  us !" 


CHAPTER  VI 
THE  JOPPA  GATE 

>N  an  aperture  of  the  western  wall  of 
Jerusalem  hang  the  "oaken  valves" 
called  the  Bethlehem  or  Joppa  Gate. 
The  area  outside  of  them  is  one  of 
the  notable  places  of  the  city.  Long  before 
David  coveted  Zion  there  was  a  citadel  there. 
When  at  last  the  son  of  Jesse  ousted  the 
Jebusite,  and  began  to  build,  the  site  of  the 
citadel  became  the  north-west  corner  of  the 
new  wall,  defended  by  a  tower  much  more  im- 
posing than  the  old  one.  The  location  of  the 
gate,  however,  was  not  disturbed,  for  the  rea- 
sons, most  likely,  that  the  roads  which  met  fllJ|P« 
and  merged  in  front  of  it  could  not  well  be  j  (0 
transferred  to  any  other  point,  while  the  area 
outside  had  become*  a  recognized  market-place. 


•jr.  nru 


In  Solomon's  day  there  was  great  traffic  at  the 
locality,  shared  in  by  traders  from  Egypt  and 
the  rich  dealers  from  Tyre  and  Sidon.  Nearly 
three  thousand  years  have  passed,  and  yet  a 
kind  of  commerce'  clings  to  the  spot.  A  pil- 
grim wanting  a  pin  or  a  pistol,  a  cucumber  or 
a  camel,  a  house  or  a  horse,  a  loan  or  a  lentil,  a 
date  or  a  dragoman,  a  melon  or  a  man,  a  dove 
or  a  donkey,  has  only  to  inquire  for  the  article 
at  the  Joppa  Gate.  Sometimes  the  scene  is 
quite  animated,  and  then  it  suggests,  What  a 
place  the  old  market  must  have  been  in  the 
days  of  Herod  the  Builder !  And  to  that  pe- 
riod and  that  market  the  reader  is  now  to  be 
transferred. 

Following  the  Hebrew  system,  the  meeting 
of  the  wise  men  described  in  the  preceding 
chapters  took  place  in  the  afternoon  of  the 
twenty- fifth  day  of  the  third  month  of  the 
year ;  that  is  to  say,  on  the  twenty-fifth  day  of 
December.  The  year  was  the  second  of  the 
1 93d  Olympiad,  or  the  747th  of  Rome;  the 
sixty  -  seventh  of  Herod  the  Great,  and  the 
thirty-fifth  of  his  reign ;  the  fourth  before  the 
beginning  of  the  Christian  era.  The  hours  of 
the  day,  by  Judean  custom,  begin  with  the  sun, 
the  first  hour  being  the  first  after  sunrise ;  so, 
to  be  precise,  the  market  at  the  Joppa  Gate 
during  the  first  hour  of  the  day  stated  was  in 
full  session,  and  very  lively.  The  massive 
valves  had  been  wide  open  since  dawn.  Busi- 
ness, always  aggressive,  had  pushed  through 
the  arched  entrance  into  a  narrow  lane  and 
court,  which,  passing  by  the  walls  of  the  great 


tower,  conducted  on  into  the  city.  As  Jerusa- 
lem is  in  the  hill  country,  the  morning  air  on 
this  occasion  was  not  a  little  crisp.  The  rays 
of  the  sun,  with  their  promise  of  warmth,  lin- 
gered provokingly  far  up  on  the  battlements 
and  turrets  of  the  great  piles  about,  down  from 
which  fell  the  crooning  of  pigeons  and  the 
whir  of  the  flocks  coming  and  going. 

As  a  passing  acquaintance  with  the  people 
of  the  Holy  City,  strangers  as  well  as  residents, 
will  be  necessary  to  an  understanding  of  some 
of  the  pages  which  follow,  it  will  be  well  to 
stop  at  the  gate  and  pass  the  scene  in  review. 
Better  opportunity  will  not  offer  to  get  sight 
of  the  populace  who  will  after  a  while  go  for- 
ward in  a  mood  very  different  from  that  which 
now  possesses  them. 

The  scene  is  at  first  one  of  utter  confusion 
—  confusion  of  action,  sounds,  colors,  and 
things.  It  is  especially  so  in  the  lane  and 
court.  The  ground  there  is  paved  with  broad 
unshaped  flags,  from  which  each  cry  and  jar 
and  hoof-stamp  arises  to  swell  the  medley  that 
rings  and  roars  up  between  the  solid  impend- 
ing walls.  A  little  mixing  with  the  throng, 
however,  a  little  familiarity  with  the  business 
going  on,  will  make  analysis  possible. 

Here  stands  a  donkey,  dozing  under  pan-  / 
niers  full  of  lentils,  beans,  onions,  and  cucum-  (/ 
bers,  brought   fresh    from   the   gardens   and 
terraces  of  Galilee.   When  not  engaged  in  serv- 
ing customers,  the  master,  in  a  voice  which 
only  the   initiated   can  understand,  cries  his 
stock.     Nothing  can  be  simpler  than  his  cos- 

4S 


A 


tume — sandals,  and  an  unbleached,  undyed 
blanket,  crossed  over  one  shoulder  and  girt 
round  the  waist.  Near-by,  and  far  more  im- 
posing and  grotesque,  though  scarcely  as  pa- 
tient as  the  donkey,  kneels  a  camel,  raw-boned, 
rough,  and  gray,  with  long  shaggy  tufts  of  fox- 
colored  hair  under  its  throat,  neck,  and  body, 
and  a  load  of  boxes  and  baskets  curiously  ar- 
ranged upon  an  enormous  saddle.  The  owner 
is  an  Egyptian,  small,  lithe,  and  of  a  complex- 
ion which  has  borrowed  a  good  deal  from  the 
dust  of  the  roads  and  the  sands  of  the  desert. 
He  wears  a  faded  tarbooshe,  a  loose  gown, 
sleeveless,  unbelted,  and  dropping  from  the 
neck  to  the  knee.  His  feet  are  bare.  The  cam- 
el, restless  under  the  load,  groans  and  occa- 
sionally shows  his  teeth ;  but  the  man  paces 
indifferently  to  and  fro,  holding  the  driving- 
strap,  and  all  the  time  advertising  his  fruits 
fresh  from  the  orchards  of  the  Kedron — grapes, 
dates,  figs,  apples,  and  pomegranates. 

At  the  corner  where  the  lane  opens  out  into 
the  court,  some  women  sit  with  their  backs 
against  the  gray  stones  of  the  wall.  Their 
dress  is  that  common  to  the  humbler  classes  of 
,  the  country — a  linen  frock  extending  the  full 
/  length  of  the  person,  loosely  gathered  at  the 
waist,  and  a  veil  or  wimple  broad  enough,  af- 
ter covering  the  head,  to  wrap  the  shoulders. 
Their  merchandise  is  contained  in  a  number 
of  earthen  jars,  such  as  are  still  used  in  the  East 
for  bringing  water  from  the  wells,  and  some 
leathern  bottles.  Among  the  jars  and  bottles, 
rolling  upon  the  stony  floor,  regardless  of  the 


crowd  and  cold,  often  in  danger  but  never 
hurt,  play  half  a  dozen  half-naked  children, 
their  brown  bodies,  jetty  eyes,  and  thick  black 
hair  attesting  the  blood  of  Israel.  Sometimes, 
from  under  the  wimples,  the  mothers  look  up, 
and  in  the  vernacular  modestly  bespeak  their 
trade  :  in  the  bottles  "  honey  of  grapes,"  in  the 
jars  "  strong  drink."  Their  entreaties  are  usu- 
ally lost  in  the  general  uproar,  and  they  fare 
illy  against  the  many  competitors  :  brawny  fel- 
lows with  bare  legs,  dirty  tunics,  and  long 
beards,  going  about  with  bottles  lashed  to  their 
backs,  and  shouting  "  Honey  of  wine  !  Grapes 
of  En-Gedi !"  When  a  customer  halts  one  of 
them,  round  comes  the  bottle,  and,  upon  lifting 
the  thumb  from  the  nozzle,  out  into  the  ready 
cup  gushes  the  deep-red  blood  of  the  luscious 
berry. 

Scarcely  less  blatant  are  the  dealers  in  birds 
— doves,  ducks,  and  frequently  the  singing  bul- 
bul,  or  nightingale,  most  frequently  pigeons ; 
and  buyers,  receiving  them  from  the  nets,  sel- 
dom fail  to  think  of  the  perilous  life  of  the 
catchers,  bold  climbers  of  the  cliffs ;  now  hang- 
ing with  hand  and  foot  to  the  face  of  the  crag, 
now  swinging  in  a  basket  far  down  the  mount- 
ain fissure. 

Blent  with  peddlers  of  jewelry — sharp  men 
cloaked  in  scarlet  and  blue,  top-heavy  under 
prodigious  white  turbans,  and  fully  conscious 
of  the  power  there  is  in  the  lustre  of  a  ribbon 
and  the  incisive  gleam  of  gold,  whether  in 
bracelet  or  necklace,  or  in  rings  for  the  finger 
or  the  nose — and  with  peddlers  of  household 


*%-" 


utensils,  and  with  dealers  in  wearing-apparel, 
and  with  retailers  of  unguents  for  anointing 
the  person,  and  with  hucksters  of  all  articles, 
fanciful  as  well  as  of  need,  hither  and  thither, 
tugging  at  halters  and  ropes,  now  screaming, 
now  coaxing,  toil  the  venders  of  animals — 
donkeys,  horses,  calves,  sheep,  bleating  kids, 
and  awkward  camels;  animals  of  every  kind 
except  the  outlawed  swine.  All  these  are 
there ;  not  singly,  as  described,  but  many  times 
repeated ;  not  in  one  place,  but  everywhere  in 
the  market. 

Turning  from  this  scene  in  the  lane  and 
court,  this  glance  at  the  sellers  and  their  com- 
modities, the  reader  has  need  to  give  atten- 
tion, in  the  next  place,  to  visitors  and  buyers, 
for  which  the  best  studies  will  be  found  out- 
side the  gates,  where  the  spectacle  is  quite  as 
; varied  and  animated;  indeed,  it  may  be  more 
.  so,  for  there  are  superadded  the  effects  of  tent, 
booth,  and  sook,  greater  space,  larger  crowd, 
•~~  more  unqualified  freedom,  and  the  glory  of 
the  Eastern  sunshine. 


CHAPTER  VII 
TYPICAL    CHARACTERS   AT   THE   JOPPA    GATE 

>ET  us  take  our  stand  by  the  gate,  just 
out  of  the  edge  of  the  currents — one 
flowing  in,  the  other  out — and  use 
our  eyes  and  ears  a  while. 

In  good  time !  Here  come  two  men  of  a 
most  noteworthy  class. 

"  Gods !  How  cold  it  is !"  says  one  of  them, 
a  powerful  figure  in  armor;  on  his  head  a  bra- 
zen helmet,  on  his  body  a  shining  breastplate 
and  skirts  of  mail.  "  How  cold  it  is !  Dost 
thou  remember,  my  Caius,  that  vault  in  the 
Comitium  at  home  which  the  flamens  say  is 
the  entrance  to  the  lower  world  ?  By  Pluto ! 
I  could  stand  there  this  morning,  long  enough 
at  least  to  get  warm  again  !" 

The  party  addressed  drops  the  hood  of  his 
military  cloak,  leaving  bare  his  head  and  face, 
and  replies,  with  an  ironic  smile,  "  The  helmets 
of  the  legions  which  conquered  Mark  Antony 
were  full  of  Gallic  snow;  but  thou — ah,  my 
poor  friend ! — thou  hast  just  come  from  Egypt, 
bringing  its  summer  in  thy  blood." 

And  with  the  last  word  they  disappear 
through  the  entrance.  Though  they  had  been 
silent,  the  armor  and  the  sturdy  step  would 
have  published  them  Roman  soldiers. 

From  the  throng  a  Jew  comes  next,  meagre 
of  frame,  round-shouldered,  and  wearing  a 

47 


___-___ 


coarse  brown  robe ;  over  his  eyes  and  face,  and 
down  his  back  hangs  a  mat  of  long  uncombed 
hair.  He  is  alone.  Those  who  meet  him 
laugh,  if  they  do  not  worse ;  for  he  is  a  Naza- 
rite,  one  of  a  despised  sect  which  rejects  the 
books  of  Moses,  devotes  itself  to  abhorred  vows, 
and  goes  unshorn  while  the  vows  endure. 

As  we  watch  his  retiring  figure,  suddenly 
there  is  a  commotion  in  the  crowd,  a  parting 
quickly  to  the  right  and  left,  with  exclamations 
sharp  and  decisive.  Then  the  cause  comes — • 
a  man,  Hebrew  in  feature  and  dress.  The  man-, 
tie  of  snow-white  linen,  held  to  his  head  by 
-cords  of  yellow  silk,  flows  free  over  his  shoul- 
ders ;  his  robe  is  richly  embroidered  ;  a  red 
sash  with  fringes  of  gold  wraps  his  waist  sev- 
eral times.  His  demeanor  is  calm ;  he  even 
[smiles  upon  those  who,  with  such  rude  haste, 
ke  room  for  him.  A  leper  ?  No,  he  is  only 
Samaritan.  The  shrinking  crowd,  if  asked, 
ould  say  he  is  a  mongrel  —  an  Assyrian — 
hose  touch  of  the  robe  is  pollution  ;  from 
horn,  consequently,  an  Israelite,  though  dy- 
ng,  might  not  accept  life.  In  fact,  the  feud  is 
ot  of  blood.  When  David  set  his  throne  here 
n  Mount  Zion,  with  only  Judah  to  support 
im,  the  ten  tribes  betook  themselves  to  She- 
hem,  a  city  much  older,  and,  at  that  date,  in- 
nitely  richer  in  holy  memories.  The  final 
union  of  the  tribes  did  not  settle  the  dispute 
thus  begun.  The  Samaritans  clung  to  their 
tabernacle  on  Gerizim,  and,  while  maintaining 
its  superior  sanctity,  laughed  at  the  irate  doc- 
tors in  Jerusalem.  Time  brought  no  assuage- 


ment  of  the  hate.  Under  Herod,  conversion 
to  the  faith  was  open  to  all  the  world  except 
the  Samaritans ;  they  alone  were  absolutely 
and  forever  shut  out  from  communion  with 
Jews. 

As  the  Samaritan  goes  in  under  the  arch  of 
the  gate,  out  come  three  men  so  unlike  all 
whom  we  have  yet  seen  that  they  fix  our  gaze, 
whether  we  will  or  not.  They  are  of  unusual 
stature  and  immense  brawn ;  their  eyes  are 
blue,  and  so  fair  is  their  complexion  that  the 
blood  shines  through  the  skin  like  blue  pen- 
cilling ;  their  hair  is  light  and  short ;  their 
heads,  small  and  round,  rest  squarely  upon 
necks  columnar  as  the  trunks  of  trees.  Wool- 
len tunics,  open  at  the  breast,  sleeveless  and 
loosely  girt,  drape  their  bodies,  leaving  bare 
arms  and  legs  of  such  development  that  they 
at  once  suggest  the  arena;  and  when  thereto 
we  add  their  careless,  confident,  insolent  man- 
ner,  we  cease  to  wonder  that  the  people  give 
them  way,  and  stop  after  they  have  passed  to 
look  at  them  again.  They  are  gladiators — 
wrestlers,  runners,  boxers,  swordsmen ;  pro- 
fessionals unknown  in  Judea  before  the  com- 
ing of  the  Roman;  fellows  who,  what  time 
they  are  not  in  training,  may  be  seen  strolling 
through  the  king's  gardens  or  sitting  with  the 
guards  at  the  palace  gates ;  or  possibly  they 
are  visitors  from  Caesarea,  Sebaste,  or  Jericho ; 
in  which  Herod,  more  Greek  than  Jew,  and 
with  all  a  Roman's  love  of  games  and  bloody 
spectacles,  has  built  vast  theatres,  and  now 
keeps  schools  of  fighting-men,  drawn,  as  is  the 


-^l 

c 


if ; -il 

'•-?,.'•'• 


;p?TO!PS»MiM^ 

custom,  from  the  Gallic  provinces  or  the  Slavic 
tribes  on  the  Danu'be. 

"  By  Bacchus !"  says  one  of  them,  drawing 

•   his  clinched  hand  to  his  shoulder,  "  their  skulls 

,;,  are  not  thicker  than  egg-shells." 

it      The  brutal  look  which  goes  with  the  gesture 

:-',.'  disgusts  us,  and  we  turn  happily  to  something 
more  pleasant. 

Opposite  us  is  a  fruit-stand.  The  proprietor 
has  a  bald  head,  a  long  face,  and  a  nose  like 
the  beak  of  a  hawk.  He  sits  upon  a  carpet 
spread  upon  the  dust ;  the  wall  is  at  his  back ; 
overhead  hangs  a  scant  curtain  ;  around  him, 
within  hand's  reach,  and  arranged  upon  little 
stools,  lie  osier  boxes  full  of  almonds,  grapes, 
figs,  and  pomegranates.  To  him  now  comes 
one  at  whom  we  cannot  help  looking,  though 
for  another  reason  than  that  which  fixed  our 
eyes  upon  the  gladiators :  he  is  really  beauti- 
ful— a  beautiful  Greek.  Around  his  temples, 
holding  the  waving  hair,  is  a  crown  of  myrtle, 
to  which  still  cling  the  pale  flowers  and  half- 
ripe  berries.  His  tunic,  scarlet  in  color,  is  of 
the  softest  woollen  fabric ;  below  the  girdle  of 
buff  leather,  which  is  clasped  in  front  by  a  fan- 
tastic device  of  shining  gold,  the  skirt  drops 
to  the  knee  in  folds  heavy  with  embroidery  of 
the  same  royal  metal ;  a  scarf,  also  woollen,  and 
of  mixed  white  and  yellow,  crosses  his  throat 
and  falls  trailing  at  his  back ;  his  arms  and 
legs,  where  exposed,  are  white  as  ivory,  and  of 
the  polish  impossible  except  by  perfect  treat- 
ment with  bath,  oil,  brushes,  and  pincers. 
The  dealer,  keeping  his  seat,  bends  forward, 

5" 


and  throws  his  hands  up  until  they  meet  in 
front  of  him,  palm  downward  and  fingers  ex- 
tended. 

"  What  hast  thou,  this  morning,  O  son  of 
Paphos  ?"  says  the  young  Greek,  looking  at 
the  boxes  rather  than  at  the  Cypriote.  "  I  am 
hungry.  What  hast  thou  for  breakfast?" 

"  Fruits  from  the  Pedius — genuine — such  as 
the  singers  of  Antioch  take  of  mornings  to  re- 
store the  waste  of  their  voices,"  the  dealer  an- 
swers, in  a  querulous  nasal  tone. 

"  A  fig,  but  not  one  of  thy  best,  for  the  sing- 
ers of  Antioch  !"  says  the  Greek.  "  Thou  art 
a  worshipper  of  Aphrodite,  and  so  am  I,  as  the 
myrtle  I  wear  proves;  therefore  I  tell  thee 
their  voices  have  the  chill  of  a  Caspian  wind. 
Seest  thou  this  girdle  ? — a  gift  of  the  mighty 
Salome — " 

"  The  king's  sister  !"  exclaims  the  Cypriote, 
with  another  salaam. 

"And  of  royal  taste  and  divine  judgment. 
And  why  not  ?  She  is  more  Greek  than  the 
king.  But — my  breakfast !  Here  is  thy  mon- 
ey— red  coppers  of  Cyprus.  Give  me  grapes, 
and — " 

"  Wilt  thou  not  take  the  dates  also  ?" 

"  No,  I  am  not  an  Arab." 

"  Nor  figs  ?" 

"  That  would  be  to  make  me  a  Jew.  No, 
nothing  but  the  grapes.  Never  waters  mixed 
so  sweetly  as  the  blood  of  the  Greek  and  the 
blood  of  the  grape." 

The  singer  in  the  grimed  and  seething  mar- 
ket, with  all  his  airs  of  the  court,  is  a  vision 


not  easily  shut  out  of  mind  by  such  as  see  him ; 
as  if  for  the  purpose,  however,  a  person  follows 
him  challenging  all  our  wonder.  He  comes 
up  the  road  slowly,  his  face  towards  the 
ground ;  at  intervals  he  stops,  crosses  his 
hands  upon  his  breast,  lengthens  his  counte- 
nance, and  turns  his  eyes  towards  heaven,  as 
if  about  to  break  into  prayer.  Nowhere,  ex- 
cept in  Jerusalem,  can  such  a  character  be 
found.  On  his  forehead,  attached  to  the  band 
which  keeps  the  mantle  in  place,  projects  a 
leathern  case,  square  in  form  ;  another  similar 
case  is  tied  by  a  thong  to  the  left  arm ;  the 
i  borders  of  his  robe  are  decorated  with  deep 
fringe ;  and  by  such  signs — the  phylacteries, 
the  enlarged  borders  of  the  garment,  and  the 
savor  of  intense  holiness  pervading  the  whole 
man — we  know  him  to  be  a  Pharisee,  one  of 
an  organization  (in  religion  a  sect,  in  politics 
a  party)  whose  bigotry  and  power  will  shortly 
bring  the  world  to  grief. 

The  densest  of  the  throng  outside  the  gate 
covers  the  road  leading  off  to  Joppa.  Turn- 
ing from  the  Pharisee,  we  are  attracted  by 
some  parties  who,  as  subjects  of  study,  oppor- 
tunely separate  themselves  from  the  motley 
crowd.  First  among  them  a  man  of  very  no- 
ble appearance — clear,  healthful  complexion; 
bright  black  eyes ;  beard  long  and  flowing,  and 
rich  with  unguents ;  apparel  well-fitting,  cost- 
ly, and  suitable  for  the  season.  He  carries  a 
staff,  and  wears,  suspended  by  a  cord  from  his 
neck,  a  large  golden  seal.  Several  servants  at- 
tend him,  some  of  them  with  short  swords 


stuck  through  their  sashes ;  when  they  address 
him,  it  is  with  the  utmost  deference.  The  rest 
of  the  party  consists  of  two  Arabs  of  the  pure 
desert  stock  ;  thin,  wiry  men,  deeply  bronzed, 
and  with  hollow  cheeks,  and  eyes  of  almost 
evil  brightness  ;  on  their  heads  red  tarbooshes ; 
over  their  abas,  and  wrapping  the  left  shoul- 
der and  the  body  so  as  to  leave  the  right  arm 
free,  brown  woollen  haicks,  or  blankets.  There 
is  loud  chaffering;  for  the  Arabs  are  leading 
horses  and  trying  to  sell  them ;  and  in  their 
eagerness  they  speak  in  high,  shrill  voices. 
The  courtly  person  leaves  the  talking  mostly 
to  his  servants ;  occasionally  he  answers  with 
much  dignity ;  directly,  seeing  the  Cypriote,  he 
stops  and  buys  some  figs.  And  when  the  whole 
party  has  passed  the  portal,  close  after  the 
Pharisee,  if  we  betake  ourselves  to  the  dealer 
in  fruits,  he  will  tell,  with  a  wonderful  salaam, 
that  the  stranger  is  a  Jew,  one  of  the  princes  of 
the  city,  who  has  travelled,  and  learned  the  dif- 
ference between  the  common  grapes  of  Syria 
and  those  of  Cyprus,  so  surpassingly  rich  with 
the  dews  of  the  sea. 

And  so,  till  towards  noon,  sometimes  later, 
the  steady  currents  of  business  habitually  flow 
in  and  out  of  the  Joppa  Gate,  carrying  with 
them  every  variety  of  character ;  including  rep- 
resentatives of  all  the  tribes  of  Israel,  all  the 
sects  among  whom  the  ancient  faith  has  been 
parcelled  and  refined  away,  all  the  religious 
and  social  divisions,  all  the  adventurous  rabble 
who,  as  children  of  art  and  ministers  of  pleas- 
ure, riot  in  the  prodigalities  of  Herod,  and  all 

55 


the  peoples  of  note  at  any  time  compassed  by 
the  Caesars  and  their  predecessors,  especially 
those  dwelling  within  the  circuit  of  the  Medi- 
terranean. 

In  other  words,  Jerusalem,  rich  in  sacred  his- 
tory, richer  in  connection  with  sacred  proph- 
ecies—  the  Jerusalem  of  Solomon,  in  which 
silver  was  as  stones,  and  cedars  as  the  syca- 
mores of  the  vale — had  come  to  be  but  a  copy 
of  Rome,  a  centre  of  unholy  practices,  a  seat 
of  pagan  power.  A  Jewish  king  one  day  put 
on  priestly  garments,  and  went  into  the  Holy 
of  Holies  of  the  first  temple  to  offer  incense, 
and  he  came  out  a  leper;  but  in  the  time  of 
which  we  are  reading,  Pompey  entered  Her- 
od's temple  and  the  same  Holy  of  Holies,  and 
came  out  without  harm,  finding  but  an  empty 
chamber,  and  of  God  not  a  sign. 


CHAPTER   VIII 
JOSEPH   AND   MARY   GOING  TO   BETHLEHEM 

|HE  reader   is  now  besought  to   re- 
turn to  the  court  described  as  part 
of  the  market  at  the  Joppa  Gate.    It 
was  the  third  hour  of  the  day,  and 
many  of  the  people  had  gone  away ;  yet  the 
press  continued  without  apparent  abatement, 
Of  the  new-comers,  there  was  a  group  over  by 
the  south  wall,  consisting  of  a  man,  a  woman, 
and  a  donkey,  which  requires  extended  notice. 
The  man  stood  by  the  animal's  head,  hold- 
ing a  leading-strap,  and  leaning  upon  a  stick 


which  seemed  to  have  been  chosen  for  the 
double  purpose  of  goad  and  staff.  His  dress 
was  like  that  of  the  ordinary  Jews  around  him, 
except  that  it  had  an  appearance  of  newness. 
The  mantle  dropping  from  his  head,  and  the 
robe  or  frock  which  clothed  his  person  from 
neck  to  heel,  were  probably  the  garments  he 
was  accustomed  to  wear  to  the  synagogue  on 
Sabbath  days.  His  features  were  exposed, 
and  they  told  of  fifty  years  of  life,  a  surmise 
confirmed  by  the  gray  that  streaked  his  other- 
wise black  beard.  He  looked  around  him  with 
the  half-curious,  half-vacant  stare  of  a  stranger 
and  provincial. 

The  donkey  ate  leisurely  from  an  armful  of 
green  grass,  of  which  there  was  an  abundance 
in  the  market.  In  its  sleepy  content,  the  brute 
did  not  admit  of  disturbance  from  the  bustle 
and  clamor  about ;  no  more  was  it  mindful  of 
the  woman  sitting  upon  its  back  in  a  cush- 
ioned pillion.  An  outer  robe  of  dull  woollen 
stuff  completely  cove.ed  her  person,  while  a 
white  wimple  veiled  her  head  and  neck. 
Once  in  a  while,  impelled  by  curiosity  to  see 
or  hear  something  passing,  she  drew  the  wim- 
ple aside,  but  so  slightly  that  the  face  remained 
invisible. 

At  length  the  man  was  accosted. 

"  Are  you  not  Joseph  of  Nazareth  ?" 

The  speaker  was  standing  close  by. 

"I  am  so  called,"  answered  Joseph,  turning 
gravely   around.      "And  you — ah,  peace   be*' 
unto  you  !  my  friend,  Rabbi  Samuel !" 

"  The  same  give  1  back  to  you."   The  Rabbi 
H 


-  >  ji£~. 
-•       'll 

paused,  looking  at  the  woman,  then  added, 
"To  you,  and  unto  your  house  and  all  your 
helpers,  be  peace." 

With  the  last  word,  he  placed  one  hand  upon  , 
,  his  breast,  and  inclined  his  head  to  the  wom- 
j  an,  who,  to  see  him,  had  by  this  time  with- 
drawn the  wimple  enough  to  show  the  face  of 
one  but  a  short  time  out  of  girlhood.     There- 
upon the  acquaintances  grasped  right  hands, 
as  if  to  carry  them  to  their  lips ;  at  the  last 
moment,  however,  the  clasp  was  let  go,  and 
each  kissed  his  own  hand,  then  put  its  palm 
upon  his  forehead. 

"  There  is  so  little  dust  upon  your  garments," 
the  Rabbi  said,  familiarly,  "  that  I  infer  you 
passed  the  night  in  this  city  of  our  fathers." 

"  No,"  Joseph  replied ;  "  as  we  could  only 
make  Bethany  before  the  night  came,  we  stayed 
in  the  khan  there,  and  took  the  road  again  at 
daybreak." 

"  The  journey  before  you  is  long,  then — not 
to  Joppa,  I  hope." 

"  Only  to  Bethlehem." 

The  countenance  of  the  Rabbi,  theretofore 
open  and  friendly,  became  lowering  and  sinis- 
ter, and  he  cleared  his  throat  with  a  growl  in- 
stead of  a  cough. 

"  Yes,  yes — I  see,"  he  said.  "  You  were  born 
in  Bethlehem,  and  wend  thither  now,  with 
your  daughter,  to  be  counted  for  taxation,  as 
ordered  by  Caesar.  The  children  of  Jacob  are 
as  the  tribes  in  Egypt  were — only  they  have 
neither  a  Moses  nor  a  Joshua.  How  are  the 
mighty  fallen !" 

56 


Joseph  answered,  without  change  of  posture 
or  countenance, 

"  The  woman  is  not  my  daughter." 

But  the  Rabbi  clung  to  the  political  idea; 
and  he  went  on.  without  noticing  the  explana- 
tion, "  What  are  the  Zealots  doing  down  in 
Galilee  ?" 

"  I  arn  a  carpenter,  and  Nazareth  is  a  vil- 
lage," said  Joseph,  cautiously.  "  The  street  on 
which  my  bench  stands  is  not  a  road  leading 
to  any  city.  Hewing  wood  and  sawing  plank 
leave  me  no  time  to  take  part  in  the  disputes 
of  parties." 

"  But  you  are  a  Jew,"  said  the  Rabbi,  ear- 
nestly. "  You  are  a  Jew,  and  of  the  line  of 
David.  It  is  not  possible  you  can  find  pleas- 
ure in  the  payment  of  any  tax  except  the  shek- 
el given  by  ancient  custom  to  Jehovah." 

Joseph  held  his  peace. 

"  I  do  not  complain,"  his  friend  continued, 
"of  the  amount  of  the  tax — a  denarius  is  a 
trifle.  Oh  no !  The  imposition  of  the  tax  is 
the  offence.  And,  besides,  what  is  paying  it 
but  submission  to  tyranny  ?  Tell  me,  is  it  true 
that  Judas  claims  to  be  the  Messiah?  You 
live  in  the  midst  of  his  followers." 

"  I  have  heard  his  followers  say  he  was  the 
Messiah,"  Joseph  replied. 

At  this  point  the  wimple  was  drawn  aside, 
and  for  an  instant  the  whole  face  of  the  wom- 
an was  exposed.  The  eyes  of  the  Rabbi  wan- 
dered that  way,  and  he  had  time  to  see  a 
countenance  of  rare  beauty,  kindled  by  a  look 
of  intense  interest;  then  a  blush  overspread 

57 


her  cheeks  and  brow,  and  the  veil  was  returned 
to  its  place. 

The  politician  forgot  his  subject. 

"  Your  daughter  is  comely,"  he  said,  speak- 
ing lower. 

"  She  is  not  my  daughter,"  Joseph  repeated. 

The  curiosity  of  the  Rabbi  was  aroused ; 
seeing  which,  the  Nazarene  hastened  to  say  fur- 
ther, "  She  is  the  child  of  Joachim  and  Anna 
of  Bethlehem,  of  whom  you  have  at  least 
heard  ;  for  they  were  of  great  repute — " 

"  Yes,"  remarked  the  Rabbi,  deferentially, 
"  I  know  them.  They  were  lineally  descend- 
ed from  David.  I  knew  them  well." 

"  Well,  they  are  dead  now,"  the  Nazarene 
proceeded.  "They  died  in  Nazareth.  Joa- 
<'  chim  was  not  rich,  yet  he  left  a  house  and  gar- 
den to  be  divided  between  his  daughters  Mar- 
ian and  Mary.  This  is  one  of  them;  and  to 
save  her  portion  of  the  property,  the  law  re- 
quired her  to  marry  her  next  of  kin.  She  is 
now  my  wife." 

"  And  you  were — " 

"  Her  uncle." 

"  Yes,  yes !  And  as  you  were  both  born  in 
Bethlehem,  the  Roman  compels  you  to  take 
her  there  with  you  to  be  also  counted." 

The  Rabbi  clasped  his  hands,  and  looked  in- 
dignantly to  heaven,  exclaiming,  "  The  God  of 
Israel  still  lives  !  The  vengeance  is  his !" 

With  that  he  turned  and  abruptly  departed. 
A  stranger  near  by,  observing  Joseph's  amaze- 
ment, said,  quietly,  "  Rabbi  Samuel  is  a  zealo 
Judas  himself  is  not  more  fierce." 
58 


Joseph,  not  wishing  to  talk  with  the  man 
appeared  not  to  hear,  and  busied  himself  gath- 
ering in  a  little  heap  the  grass  which  the  don- 
key had  tossed  abroad  ;  after  which  he  leaned 
upon  his  staff  again,  and  waited. 

In  another  hour  the  party  passed  out  the 
gate,  and,  turning  to  the  left,  took  the  road  to 
Bethlehem.  The  descent  into  the  valley  of 
Hinnom  was  quite  broken,  garnished  here  and 
there  with  straggling  wild  olive-trees.  Care- 
fully, tenderly,  the  Nazarene  walked  by  the 
woman's  side,  leading-strap  in  hand.  On  their 
left,  reaching  to  the  south  and  east  round 
Mount  Zion,  rose  the  city  wall,  and  on  thei 
right  the  steep  prominences  which  form  th 
western  boundary  of  the  valley. 

Slowly  they  passed  the  Lower  Pool  of  Gi- 
hon,  out  of  which  the  sun  was  fast  driving  the 
lessening  shadow  of  the  royal  hill ;  slowly 
they  proceeded,  keeping  parallel  with  the 
aqueduct  from  the  Pools  of  Solomon,  until 
near  the  site  of  the  country-house  on  what  is 
now  called  the  Hill  of  Evil  Counsel ;  there 
they  began  to  ascend  to  the  plain  of  Repha- 
im.  The  sun  streamed  garishly  over  the  stony 
face  of  the  famous  locality,  and  under  its  in- 
fluence Mary,  the  daughter  of  Joachim,  dropped 
the  wimple  entirely,  and  bared  her  head.  Jo- 
seph told  the  story  of  the  Philistines  surprised 
in  their  camp  there  by  David.  He  was  tedi- 
ous in  the  narrative,  speaking  with  the  solemn 
countenance  and  lifeless  manner  of  a  dull 
man.  She  did  not  always  hear  him. 

Wherever  on  the  land  men  go,  and  on  the 

59 


sea  ships,  the  face  and  figure  of  the  Jew  are 
familiar.  The  physical  type  of  the  race  has  al- 
ways been  the  same ;  yet  there  have  been  some 
individual  variations.  "  Now  he  was  ruddy, 
and  withal  of  a  beautiful  countenance,  and 
goodly  to  look  to."  Such  was  the  son  of  Jesse 
when  brought  before  Samuel.  The  fancies  of 
men  have  been  ever  since  ruled  by  the  de- 
scription. Poetic  license  has  extended  the 
peculiarities  of  the  ancestor  to  his  notable  de- 
scendants. So  all  our  ideal  Solomons  have 
fair  faces,  and  hair  and  beard  chestnut  in 
the  shade,  and  of  the  tint  of  gold  in  the  sun. 
Such,  we  are  also  made  believe,  were  the  locks 
of  Absalom  the  beloved.  And,  in  the  absence 
of  authentic  history,  tradition  has  dealt  no  less 
lovingly  by  her  whom  we  are  now  following 
down  to  the  native  city  of  the  ruddy  king. 

She  was  not  more  than  fifteen.  Her  form, 
voice,  and  manner  belonged  to  the  period  of 
transition  from  girlhood.  Her  face  was  per- 
fectly oval,  her  complexion  more  pale  than 
fair.  The  nose  was  faultless  ;  the  lips,  slightly 
parted,  were  full  and  ripe,  giving  to  the  lines 
of  the  mouth  warmth,  tenderness,  and  trust ; 
the  eyes  were  blue  and  large,  and  shaded  by 
drooping  lids  and  long  lashes ;  and,  in  har- 
mony with  all,  a  flood  of  golden  hair,  in  the 
style  permitted  to  Jewish  brides,  fell  uncon- 
fined  down  her  back  to  the  pillion  on  which 
she  sat.  The  throat  and  neck  had  the  downy 
softness  sometimes  seen  which  leaves  the  ar- 
tist in  doubt  whether  it  is  an  effect  of  contour 
or  color.  To  these  charms  of  feature  and  per- 
60 


son  were  added  others  more  indefinable — an 
air  of  purity  which  only  the  soul  can  impart, 
and  of  abstraction  natural  to  such  as  think 
much  of  things  impalpable.  Often,  with  trem- 
bling lips,  she  raised  her  eyes  to  heaven,  itself 
not  more  deeply  blue ;  often  she  crossed  her 
hands  upon  her  breast,  as  in  adoration  and 
prayer;  often  she  raised  her  head  like  one 
listening  eagerly  for  a  calling  voice.  Now  and 
then,  midst  his  slow  utterances,  Joseph  turned 
to  look  at  her,  and,  catching  the  expression 
kindling  her  face  as  with  light,  forgot  his  theme, 
and  with  bowed  head,  wondering,  plodded  on. 
So  they  skirted  the  great  plain,  and  at  length 
reached  the  elevation  Mar  Elias ;  from  which, 
across  a  valley,  they  beheld  Bethlehem,  the  old, 
old  House  of  Bread,  its  white  walls  crowning  a 
ridge,  and  shining  above  the  brown  scumbling 
of  leafless  orchards.  They  paused  there,  and 
rested,  while  Joseph  pointed  out  the  places  of 
sacred  renown  ;  then  they  went  down  into  the 
valley  to  the  well  which  was  the  scene  of  one 
of  the  marvellous  exploits  of  David's  strong 
men.  The  narrow  space  was  crowded  with 
people  and  animals.  A  fear  came  upon  Joseph 
— a  fear  lest,  if  the  town  were  so  thronged, 
there  might  not  be  house-room  for  the  gentle 
Mary.  Without  delay,  he  hurried  on,  past  the 
pillar  of  stone  marking  the  tomb  of  Rachel, 
up  the  gardened  slope,  saluting  none  of  the 
many  persons  he  met  on  the  way,  until  he 
stopped  before  the  portal  of  the  khan  that 
then  stood  outside  the  village  gates,  near  a 
junction  of  roads. 


CHAPTER   IX 
THE  CAVE  AT   BETHLEHEM 

O  understand  thoroughly  what 
pened  to  the  Nazarene  at  the  khan, 
the  reader  must  be  reminded  that 
Eastern  inns  were  different  from 
the  inns  of  the  Western  world.  They  were 
called  khans,  from  the  Persian,  and,  in  simplest 
form,  were  fenced  enclosures,  without  house  or 
shed,  often  without  a  gate  or  entrance.  Their 
sites  were  chosen  with  reference  to  shade,  de- 
fence, or  water.  Such  were  the  inns  that  shel- 
tered Jacob  when  he  went  to  seek  a  wife  in 
Padan-Aram.  Their  like  may  be  seen  at  this 
day  in  the  stopping-places  of  the  desert.  On 
the  other  hand,  some  of  them,  especially  those 
on  the  roads  between  great  cities,  like  Jerusa- 
lem and  Alexandria,  were  princely  establish- 
ments, monuments  to  the  piety  of  the  kings 
who  built  them.  In  ordinary,  however,  they 
*  were  no  more  than  the  house  or  possession  of 
a  sheik,  in  which,  as  in  headquarters,  he  swayed 
his  tribe.  Lodging  the  traveller  was  the  least 
of  their  uses ;  they  were  markets,  factories, 
forts ;  places  of  assemblage  and  residence  for 
merchants  and  artisans  quite  as  much  as  places 
of  shelter  for  belated  and  wandering  wayfarers. 
Within  their  walls,  all  the  year  round,  occurred 
the  multiplied  daily  transactions  of  a  town. 
The  singular  management  of  these  hostelries 


was  the  feature  likely  to  strike  a  Western  mind 
with  most  force.  There  was  no  host  or  host- 
ess ;  no  clerk,  cook,  or  kitchen ;  a  steward  at 
the  gate  was  all  the  assertion  of  government  or 
proprietorship  anywhere  visible.  Strangers  ar- 
riving stayed  at  will  without  rendering  account. 
A  consequence  of  the  system  was  that  whoever 
came  had  to  bring  his  food  and  culinary  outfit 
with  him,  or  buy  them  of  dealers  in  the  khan. 
The  same  rule  held  good  as  to  his  bed  and 
bedding,  and  forage  for  his  beasts.  Water,  rest, 
shelter,  and  protection  were  all  he  looked  for 
from  the  proprietor,  and  they  were  gratuities. 
The  peace  of  synagogues  was  sometimes  broken 
by  brawling  disputants,  but  that  of  the  khans 
never.  The  houses  and  all  their  appurtenances 
were  sacred  :  a  well  was  not  more  so. 

The  khan  at  Bethlehem,  before  which  Joseph 
and  his  wife  stopped,  was  a  good  specimen  of 
its  class,  being  neither  very  primitive  nor  very 
princely.  The  building  was  purely  Oriental ; 
that  is  to  say,  a  quadrangular  block  of  rough 
stones,  one  story  high,  flat- roofed,  externally 
unbroken  by  a  window,  and  with  but  one  prin- 
cipal entrance— a  doorway,  which  was  also  a 
gateway,  on  the  eastern  side,  or  front.  The 
road  ran  by  the  door  so  near  that  the  chalk 
dust  half  covered  the  lintel.  A  fence  of  flat 
rocks,  beginning  at  the  north-eastern  corner  of 
the  pile,  extended  many  yards  down  the  slope 
to  a  point  from  whence  it  swept  westwardly 
to  a  limestone  bluff ;  making  what  was  in  the 
highest  degree  essential  to  a  respectable  khan 
— a  safe  encjosure  for  animals. 

6, 


In  a  village  like  Bethlehem,  as  there  was  but 
one  sheik,  there  could  not  well  be  more  than 
one  khan  ;  and,  though  born  in  the  place,  the 
Nazarene,  from  long  residence  elsewhere,  had 
no  claim  to  hospitality  in  the  town.  More- 
over, the  enumeration  for  which  he  was  com- 
ing might  be  the  work  of  weeks  or  months ; 
Roman  deputies  in  the  provinces  were  pro- 
verbially slow ;  and  to  impose  himself  and 
wife  for  a  period  so  uncertain  upon  acquaint- 
ances or  relations  was  out  of  the  question.  So, 
before  he  drew  nigh  the  great  house,  while  he 
was  yet  climbing  the  slope,  in  the  steep  places 
toiling  to  hasten  the  donkey,  the  fear  that  he 
might  not  find  accommodations  in  the  khan 
became  a  painful  anxiety;  for  he  found  the 
sroad  thronged  with  men  and  boys  who,  with 
.great  ado,  were  taking  their  cattle,  horses,  and 
,  camels  to  and  from  the  valley,  some  to  water, 
some  to  the  neighboring  caves.  And  when  he 
'  was  come  close  by,  his  alarm  was  not  allayed 
'by  the  discovery  of  a  crowd  investing  the 
door  of  the  establishment,  while  the  enclos- 
ure adjoining,  broad  as  it  was,  seemed  already 
full. 

"We  cannot  reach  the  door," Joseph  said, 
in  his  slow  way.  "  Let  us  stop  here,  and  learn, 
if  we  can,  what  has  happened." 

The  wife,  without  answering,  quietly  drew 
the  wimple  aside.  The  look  of  fatigue  at  first 
upon  her  face  changed  to  one  of  interest.  She 
found  herself  at  the  edge  of  an  assemblage 
that  could  not  be  other  than  a  matter  of  curi- 
osity to  her,  although  it  was  common  enough 


THE    VIRGIN   AND   CHILD,  ENTHRONED,   WITH   SAINTS 

(The  Colonna  Raphael,  painted  in   1505  for  a  convent  in  Perugia) 


at  the  khans  on  any  of  the  highways  which 
the  great  caravans  were  accustomed  to  trav- 
erse. There  were  men  on  foot,  running  hith- 
er and  thither,  talking  shrilly  and  in  all  the 
tongues  of  Syria ;  men  on  horseback  scream- 
ing to  men  on  camels ;  men  struggling  doubt- 
fully with  fractious  cows  and  frightened  sheep ; 
men  peddling  bread  and  wine  ;  and  among  the 
mass  a  herd  of  boys  apparently  in  chase  of 
a  herd  of  dogs.  Everybody  and  everything 
seemed  to  be  in  motion  at  the  same  time. 
Possibly  the  fair  spectator  was  too  weary  to 
be  long  attracted  by  the  scene ;  in  a  little 
while  she  sighed,  and  settled  down  on  the 
pillion,  and,  as  if  in  search  of  peace  and  rest, 
or  in  expectation  of  some  one,  looked  off  to 
the  south,  and  up  to  the  tall  cliffs  of  the  Mount 
of  Paradise,  then  faintly  reddening  under  the 
setting  sun. 

While  she  was  thus  looking,  a  man  pushed 
his  way  out  of  the  press,  and,  stopping  close  by  i 
the  donkey,  faced  about  with  an  angry  brow.  I 
The  Nazarene  spoke  to  him. 

"  As  I  am  what  I  take  you  to  be,  good  friend  [ 
— a  son  of  Judah — may  I  ask  the  cause  of  this 
multitude  ?" 

The  stranger  turned  fiercely ;  but,  seeing  the  I 
solemn  countenance  of  Joseph,  so  in  keeping; 
with  his  deep,  slow  voice  and  speech,  he  raised) 
his  hand  in  half-salutation,  and  replied, 

"  Peace  be  to  you,  Rabbi !  I  am  a  son  of  j 
Judah,  and  will  answer  you.  I  dwell  in  Beth-! 
Dagon,  which,  you  know,  is  in  what  used  to  be  j 
the  land  of  the  tribe  of  Dan." 


"  On  the  road  to  Joppa  from  Modin,"  said 
Joseph. 

"  Ah,  you  have  been  in  Beth-Dagon,"  the 
man  said,  his  face  softening  yet  more.  "  What 
wanderers  we  of  Judah  are  !  I  have  been  away 
from  the  ridge — old  Ephrath,  as  our  father 
Jacob  called  it — for  many  years.  When  the 
proclamation  went  abroad  requiring  all  He- 
brews to  be  numbered  at  the  cities  of  their 
birth —  That  is  my  business  here,  Rabbi." 

Joseph's  face  remained  stolid  as  a  mask, 
while  he  remarked,  "  I  have  come  for  that  also 
— I  and  my  wife." 

The  stranger  glanced  at  Mary  and  kept  si- 
lence. She  was  looking  up  at  the  bald  top  of 
Gedor.  The  sun  touched  her  upturned  face, 
and  filled  the  violet  depths  of  her.  eyes ;  and 
upon  her  parted  lips  trembled  an  aspiration 
which  could  not  have  been  to  a  mortal.  For 
the  moment,  all  the  humanity  of  her  beauty 
seemed  refined  away :  she  was  as  we  fancy 
they  are  who  sit  close  by  the  gate  in  the  trans- 
figuring light  of  Heaven.  The  Beth-Dagonite 
saw  the  original  of  what,  centuries  after,  came 
as  a  vision  of  genius  to  Sanzio  the  divine,  and 
left  him  immortal. 

"  Of  what  was  I  speaking  ?  Ah  !  I  remem- 
ber. I  was  about  to  say  that  when  I  heard  of 
/  the  order  to  come  here,  I  was  angry.  Then  I 
thought  of  the  old  hill,  and  the  town,  and  the 
valley  falling  away  into  the  depths  of  Cedron ; 
of  the  vines  and  orchards,  and  fields  of  grain, 
r  unfailing  since  the  days  of  Boaz  and  Ruth ;  of 
,  the  familiar  mountains- 

-'•<V 


Gedor  here,  Gibeah 


yonder,  Mar  Elias  there — which,  when  I  was  a 
boy,  were  the  walls  of  the  world  to  me ;  and  I 
forgave  the  tyrants  and  came — I,  and  Rachel, 
my  wife,  and  Deborah  and  Michal,  our  roses  of 
Sharon." 

The  man  paused  again,  looking  abruptly  at 
Mary,  who  was  now  looking  at  him  and  listen- 
ing. Then  he  said,  "  Rabbi,  will  not  your  wife 
go  to  mine  ?  You  may  see  her  yonder  with 
the  children,  under  the  leaning  olive-tree  at 
the  bend  of  the  road.  I  tell  you  " — he  turned 
to  Joseph  and  spoke  positively — "  I  tell  you  the 
khan  is  full.  It  is  useless  to  ask  at  the  gate." 

Joseph's  will  was  slow,  like  his  mind ;  he 
hesitated,  but  at  length  replied,  "  The  offer  is 
kind.  Whether  there  be  room  for  us  or  not 
in  the  house,  we  will  go  see  your  people.  Let 
me  speak  to  the  gate-keeper  myself.  I  will 
return  quickly." 

And,  putting  the  leading-strap  in  the  stran- 
ger's hand,  he  pushed  into  the  stirring  crowd. 

The  keeper  sat  on  a  great  cedar  block  out- 
side the  gate.  Against  the  wall  behind  him 
leaned  a  javelin.  A  dog  squatted  on  the  block 
by  his  side. 

"  The  peace  of  Jehovah  be  with  you,"  said 
Joseph,  at  last  confronting  the  keeper. 

"  What  you  give,  may  you  find  again ;  and, 
when  found,  be  it  many  times  multiplied  to 
you  and  yours,"  returned  the  watchman,  grave- 
ly, though  without  moving. 

"  I  am  a  Bethlehemite,"  said  Joseph,  in  his 
most  deliberate  way.  "  Is  there  not  room 
for- 

/jm 

67 


"There  is  not." 

"You  may  have  heard  of  me — Joseph  ol 
Nazareth.  This  is  the  house  of  my  fathers.  I 
am  of  the  line  of  David." 

These  words  held  the  Nazarene's  hope.  If 
they  failed  him,  further  appeal  was  idle,  even 
that  of  the  offer  of  many  shekels.  To  be  a  son 
of  Judah  was  one  thing — in  the  tribal  opin- 
ion a  great  thing;  to  be  of  the  house  of  David 
was  yet  another;  on  the  tongue  of  a  Hebrew 
there  could  be  no  higher  boast.  A  thousand 
years  and  more  had  passed  since  the  boyish 
shepherd  became  the  successor  of  Saul  and 
founded  a  royal  family.  Wars,  calamities,  oth- 
er kings,  and  the  countless  obscuring  proc- 
esses of  time  had,  as  respects  fortune,  lowered 
his  descendants  to  the  common  Jewish  level ; 
the  bread  they  ate  came  to  them  of  toil  never 
more  humble ;  yet  they  had  the  benefit  of  his- 
tory sacredly  kept,  of  which  genealogy  was  the 
first  chapter  and  the  last ;  they  could  not  be- 
come unknown ;  while,  wherever  they  went  in 
Israel,  acquaintance  drew  after  it  a  respect 
amounting  to  reverence. 

If  this  were  so  in  Jerusalem  and  elsewhere, 
certainly  one  of  the  sacred  line  might  reason- 
ably rely  upon  it  at  the  door  of  the  khan  of 
Bethlehem.  To  say,  as  Joseph  said,  "  This  is 
the  house  of  my  fathers,"  was  to  say  the  truth 
most  simply  and  literally ;  for  it  was  the  very 
house  Ruth  ruled  as  the  wife  of  Boaz;  the 
very  house  in  which  Jesse  and  his  ten  sons, 
David  the  youngest,  were  born ;  the  very  house 
in  which  Samuel  came  seeking  a  king,  and 


V'-, 


found  him  ;  the  very  house  which  David  gave 
to  the  son  of  Barzillai,  the  friendly  Gileadite ; 
the  very  house  in  which  Jeremiah,  by  prayer, 
rescued  the  remnant  of  his  race  flying  before 
the  Babylonians. 

The  appeal  was  not  without  effect.  The 
keeper  of  the  gate  slid  down  from  the  cedar 
block,  and,  laying  his  hand  upon  his  beard, 
said,  respectfully,  "  Rabbi,  I  cannot  tell  you*1 
when  this  door  first  opened  in  welcome  to  the 
traveller,  but  it  was  more  than  a  thousand 
years  ago ;  and  in  all  that  time  there  is  no 
known  instance  of  a  good  man  turned  away, 
save  when  there  was  no  room  to  rest  him  in.'  - 
If  it  has  been  so  with  the  stranger,  just  cause[ 
must  the  steward  have  who  says  no  to  one  of 
the  line  of  David.  Wherefore,  I  salute  you 
again ;  and,  if  you  care  to  go  with  me,  I  will 
show  you  that  there  is  not  a  lodging-place  left 
in  the  house ;  neither  in  the  chambers,  nor  in 
the  lewens,  nor  in  the  court — not  even  on  the 
roof.  May  I  ask  when  you  came  ?" 

"  But  now." 

The  keeper  smiled. 

"  '  The  stranger  that  dwelleth  with  you  shal 
be  as  one  born  among  you,  and  thou  shal 
love  him  as  thyself.'      Is  not  that  the  law, 
Rabbi  ?" 

Joseph  was  silent. 

"If  it  be  the  law,  can  I  say  to  one  a  long 
time  come, '  Go  thy  way ;  another  is  here  to 
take  thy  place  ?'  " 

Yet  Joseph  held  his  peace. 

"  And,  if  I  said  so,  to  whom  would  the  place 
69 


•\«».i  k 

•      If--'; 

belong  ?    See  the  many  that  have  been  waft- 
ing, some  of  them  since  noon." 

"  Who  are  all  these  people  ?"  asked  Joseph, 
turning  to  the  crowd.  "  And  why  are  they 
here  at  this  time  ?" 

"  That  which  doubtless  brought  you,  Rabbi 
— the  decree  of  the  Cassar  " — the  keeper  threw  . 
an  interrogative  glance  at  the  Nazarene,  then 
continued — "  brought  most  of  those  who  have   ' 
lodging  in  the  house.    And  yesterday  the  car- 
avan passing  from   Damascus  to  Arabia  and 
Lower  Egypt  arrived.    These  you  see  here  be-- 
long to  it — men  and  camels." 

Still  Joseph  persisted. 

"  The  court  is  large,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  but  it  is  heaped  with  cargoes — with 
bales  of  silk,  and  pockets  of  spices,  and  goods 
of  every  kind." 

Then  for  a  moment  the  face  of  the  appli- 
cant lost  its  stolidity;  the  lustreless,  staring 
eyes  dropped.  With  some  warmth  he  next 
said,  "  I  do  not  care  for  myself,  but  I  have  with 
me  my  wife,  and  the  night  is  cold — colder  on 
these  heights  than  in  Nazareth.  She  cannot 
live  in  the  open  air.  Is  there  not  room  in  the 
town  ?" 

"  These  people  "—the  keeper  waved  his  hand 
to  the  throng  before  the  door — "'have  all  be- 
sought the  town,  and  they  report  its  accom- 
modations all  engaged." 

Again  Joseph  studied  the  ground,  saying, 
half  to  himself,  "  She  is  so  young !  if  I  make 
her  bed  on  the  hill,  the  frosts  will  kill  her." 

Then  he  spoke  to  the  keeper  again. 
70 


"  It  may  be  you  knew  her  parents,  Joachim 
and  Anna,  once  of  Bethlehem,  and,  like  my- 
self, of  the  line  of  David." 

"  Yes,  I  knew  them.  They  were  good  peo- 
ple. That  was  in  my  youth." 

This  time  the  keeper's  eyes  sought  the 
ground  in  thought.  Suddenly  he  raised  his 
head. 

"  If  I  cannot  make  room  for  you,"  he  said, 
41 1  cannot  turn  you  away.  Rabbi,  1  will  do 
the  best  I  can  for  you.  How  many  are  of 
your  party  ?" 

Joseph  reflected,  then  replied,  "  My  wife  and 
a  friend  with  his  family,  from  Beth-Dagon,  a 
little  town  over  by  Joppa ;  in  all,  six  of  us." 

"Very  well.  You  shall  not  lie  out  on  the 
ridge.  Bring  your  people,  and  hasten ;  for, 
when  the  sun  goes  down  behind  the  mountain, 
you  know  the  night  comes  quickly,  and  it  is 
nearly  there  now." 

"  I  give  you  the  blessing  of  the  houseless 
traveller ;  that  of  the  sojourner  will  follow." 

So  saying,  the  Nazarene  went  back  joyfully 
to  Mary  and  the  Beth-Dagonite.  In  a  little 
while  the  latter  brought  up  his  family,  the 
women  mounted  on  donkeys.  The  wife  was 
matronly,  the  daughters  were  images  of  what 
she  must  have  been  in  youth ;  and  as  they 
drew  nigh  the  door,  the  keeper  knew  them  to 
be  of  the  humble  class. 

"  This  is  she  of  whom  I  spoke,"  said  the 
Nazarene ;  "and  these  are  our  friends." 

Mary's  veil  was  raised. 

"  Blue  eyes  and  hair  of  gold,"  muttered  the 


steward  to  himself,  seeing  but  her.  "  So  looked 
the  young  king  when  he  went  to  sing  before 
Saul." 

Then  he  took  the  leading-strap  from  Joseph 
and  said  to  Mary,  "  Peace  to  you,  O  daughter 
of  David  !"     Then  to  the  others,  "  Peace  to 
you  all !"  Then  to  Joseph,  "  Rabbi,  follow  me." 
The  party  were  conducted  into  a  wide  pas- 
sage paved  with  stone,  from  which  they  enter- 
ed the  court  of  the  khan.     To  a  stranger  the 
scene  would  have  been  curious ;  but  they  no- 
ticed the  lewens  that  yawned   darkly   upon 
them  from  all  sides,  and  the  court  itself,  only 
to  remark  how  crowded  they  were.     By  a  lane 
reserved  in  the  stowage  of  the  cargoes,  and 
thence  by  a  passage  similar  to  the  one  at  the 
jentrance,  they  emerged  into  the  enclosure  ad- 
joining the  house,  and  came  upon   camels, 
, '  J  horses,  and   donkeys,  tethered  and  dozing  in 
? close  groups;  among  them  were  the  keepers, 
J^men  of  many  lands;   and  they,  too,  slept  or 
'/'.'.kept  silent  watch.    They  went  down  the  slope 
of  the  crowded  yard  slowly,  for  the  dull  car- 
riers of  the  women  had  wills  of  their  own.   At 
'^length  they  turned  into  a  path  running  tow- 
rds  the  gray  limestone  bluff  overlooking  the 
khan  on  the  west. 

"  We  are  going  to  the  cave,"  said  Joseph, 
laconically. 

The  guide  lingered  till  Mary  came  to  his 
side. 

"  The  cave  to  which  we  are  going,"  he  said 
to  her, "  must  have  been  a  resort  of  your  an- 
cestor David.  From  the  field  below  us,  and 


from  the  well  down  in  the  valley,  he  used  to'_ 
drive  his  flocks  to  it  for  safety ;  and  afterwards, 
when  he  was  king,  he  came  back  to  the  old 
house  here  for  rest  and  health,  bringing  great 
trains  of  animals.    The  mangers  yet  remain  as»r 
they  were  in  his  day.     Better  a  bed  upon  the- 
floor  where  he  has  slept  than  one  in  the  court- f] 
yard  or  out  by  the  road-side.     Ah,  here  is  the 
house  before  the  cave  !" 

This  speech  must  not  be  taken  as  an  apol- 
ogy for  the  lodging  offered.  There  was  no 
need  of  apology.  The  place  was  the  best  then 
at  disposal.  The  guests  were  simple  folks,  by 
habits  of  life  easily  satisfied.  To  the  Jew  of  ^ 
that  period,  moreover,  abode  in  caverns  was  a  V-' 
familiar  idea,  made  so  by  every -day  occur- 
rences, and  by  what  he  heard  of  Sabbaths  in 
the  synagogues.  How  much  of  Jewish  history, 
how  many  of  the  most  exciting  incidents  in  '*• 
that  history,  had  transpired  in  caves !  Yet 
further,  these  people  were  Jews  of  Bethlehem, 
with  whom  the  idea  was  especially  common- 
place ;  fer  their  locality  abounded  with  caves 
great  and  small,  some  of  which  had  been  dwell- 
ing-places from  the  time  of  the  Emim  and  Ho- 
rites.  No  more  was  there  offence  to  them  in 
the  fact  that  the  cavern  to  which  they  were 
being  taken  had  been,  or  was,  a  stable.  They 
were  the  descendants  of  a  race  of  herdsmen, 
whose  flocks  habitually  shared  both  their  hab- 
itations and  wanderings.  In  keeping  with  a 
custom  derived  from  Abraham,  the  tent  of  the 
Bedawin  yet  shelters  his  horses  and  children 
alike.  So  they  obeyed  the  keeper  cheerfully,  ; 


and  gazed  at  the  house,  feeling  only  a  natural 
curiosity.  Everything  associated  with  the  his- 
tory of  David  was  interesting  to  them. 

The  building  was  low  and  narro-v,  project- 
ing but  a  little  from  the  rock  to  which  it  was 
joined  at  the  rear,  and  wholly  without  a  win- 
dow. In  its  blank  front  there  was  a  dooi,1* 
swung  on  enormous  hinges,  and  thickly  daubed 
with  ochreous  clay.  While  the  wooden  bolt  s 
of  the  lock  was  being  pushed  back,  the  wom- 
<  en  were  assisted  from  their  pillions.  Upon 
A  the  opening  of  the  door,  the  keeper  called  out, 

"  Come  in !" 

The  guests  entered,  and  stared  about  them. 
<j  It  became  apparent  immediately  that  the  house 
was  but  a  mask  or  covering  for  the  mouth  of 
a  natural  cave  or  grotto,  probably  forty  feet 
long,  nine  or  ten  high,  and  twelve  or  fifteen  in 
width.  The  light  streamed  through  the  door- 
way, over  an  uneven  floor,  falling  upon  piles  of 
grain  and  fodder,  and  earthen-ware  and  house- 
hold property,  occupying  the  centre  of  the 
chamber.  Along  the  sides  were  mangers,  low 
enough  for  sheep, and  built  of  stones  laid  in 
cement.  There  were  no  stalls  or  partitions  of 
any  kind.  Dust  and  chaff  yellowed  the  floor, 
filled  all  the  crevices  and  hollows,  and  thick- 
ened the  spider-webs,  which  dropped  from  the 
ceiling  like  bits  of  dirty  linen ;  otherwise  the 
place  was  cleanly,  and,  to  appearance,  as  com- 
fortable as  any  of  the  arched  lewens  of  the^; 
khan  proper.  In  fact,  a  cave  was  the  model 
and  first  suggestion  of  the  lewen. 

"  Come  in !"  said  the  guide. 


V" 


upon  the  floor  are  for  travellers  like  your- 
selves. Take  what  of  them  you  need." 

Then  he  spoke  to  Mary. 

"  Can  you  rest  here  ?" 

"  The  place  is  sanctified,"  she  answered. 

"  I  leave  you  then.    Peace  be  with  you  all !" 

When  he  was  gone,  they  busied  themselves 
making  the  cave  habitable. 


CHAPTER    X 
THE   LIGHT   IN  THE  SKY 

JT  a  certain  hour  in  the  evening  the 
shouting  and  stir  of  the  people  in 
and  about  the  khan  ceased ;  at  the 
same  time,  every  Israelite,  if  not  al- 
ready upon  his  feet,  arose,  solemnized  his  face, 
looked  towards  Jerusalem,  crossed  his  hands 
upon  his  breast,  and  prayed  ;  for  it  was  the  sa- 
cred ninth  hour,  when  sacrifices  were  offered  in 
the  temple  on  Moriah,  and  God  was  supposed 
to  be  there.  When  the  hands  of  the  worship- 
pers fell  down,  the  commotion  broke  forth 
again ;  everybody  hastened  to  bread,  or  to 
'make  his  pallet.  A  little  later,  the  lights  were 
put  out,  and  there  was  silence,  and  then  sleep. 

About  midnight  some  one  on  the  roof  cried 
out,  "  What  light  is  that  in  the  sky?  Awake,., 
brethren,  awake  and  see  !" 

The  people,  half  asleep,  sat  up  and  looked ; 
then  they  became  wide  awake,  though  wonder-^ 
struck.     And  the  stir  spread  to  the  court  be- 


Jow,  and  into  the  levvens  ;  soon  the  entire  ten- 
antry of  the  house  and  court  and  enclosure 
were  out  gazing  at  the  sky. 

And  this  was  what  they  saw :  a  ray  of  light, 
beginning  at  a  height  immeasurably  beyond 
the  nearest  stars,  and  dropping  obliquely  to 
the  earth  ;  at  its  top,  a  diminishing  point ;  at 
its  base,  many  furlongs  in  width ;  its  sides 
blending  softly  with  the  darkness  of  the  night ; 
its  core  a  roseate  electrical  splendor.  The  ap- 
parition seemed  to  rest  on  the  nearest  mount- 
ain south-east  of  the  town,  making  a  pale  coro- 
na along  the  line  of  the  summit.  The  khan 
was  touched  luminously,  so  that  those  upon 
the  roof  saw  each  other's  faces,  all  filled  with 
wonder. 

Steadily,  through  minutes,  the  ray  lingered, 
and  then  the  wonder  changed  to  awe  and  fear  ; 
the  timid  trembled  ;  the  boldest  spoke  in  whis- 
pers. 

"  Saw  you  ever  the  like  ?"  asked  one. 

"  It  seems  just  over  the  mountain  there.  I 
r." cannot  tell  what  it  is,  nor  did  I  ever  see  any- 
thing like  it,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Can  it  be  that  a  star  has  burst  and  fallen  ?" 
asked  another,  his  tongue  faltering. 

"  When  a  star  falls,  its  light  goes  out." 

"  I  have  it !"  cried  one,  confidently.  "  The 
shepherds  have  seen  a  lion,  and  made  fires  to 
keep  him  from  the  flocks." 

The  men  next  the  speaker  drew  a  breath  of 
relief,  and  said,  "  Yes,  that  is  it !  The  flocks 
were  grazing  in  the  valley  over  there  to-day." 

A  by-stander  dispelled  the  comfort. 


Sv,. 


'  No,  no !    Though  all  the  wood  in  all  the   * 
valleys  of  Judah  was  brought  together  in  one 
pile  and  fired,  the  blaze  would  not  throw  a 
light  so  strong  and  high." 

After  that  there  was  silence  on  the  house- 
^  top,  broken  but  once  again  while  the  mystery 
'  continued. 

"  Brethren  !"  exclaimed  a  Jew  of  venerable 
mien,  "  what  we  see  is  the  ladder  our  father 
Jacob  saw  in  his  dream.  Blessed  be  the  Lord 
God  of  our  fathers  t" 


CHAPTER   XI 
CHRIST  IS  BORN 

MILE  and  a  half,  it  may  be  two  miles, 
south-east  of  Bethlehem,  there  is  a 
plain  separated  from  the  town  by  an 
intervening  swell  of  the  mountain. 
Besides  being  well  sheltered  from  the  north 
winds,  the  vale  was  covered  with  a  growth  of 
sycamore,  dwarf-oak,  and  pine-trees,  while  in 
the  glens  and   ravines  adjoining  there  were 
thickets  of  olive  and  mulberry;  all  at  this  sea- 
son of  the  year  invaluable  for  the  support  of 
sheep,  goats,  and  cattle,  of  which  the  wander- 
ing flocks  consisted. 

At  the  side  farthest  from  the  town,  close 
under  a  bluff,  there  was  an  extensive  marah, 
or  sheepcot,  ages  old.  In  seme  long-forgotten 
foray,  the  building  had  been  unroofed  and  al- 
most demolished.  The  enclosure  attached  to 
it  remained  intact,  however,  and  that  was  of 


X,, 


more  importance  to  the  shepherds  who  drove 
their  charges  thither  than  the  house  itself. 
The  stone  wall  around  the  lot  was  high  as  a 
man's  head,  yet  not  so  high  but  that  some- 
times a  panther  or  a  lion,  hungering  from  the 
wilderness,  leaped  boldly  in.  On  the  inner 
side  of  the  wall,  and  as  an  additional  security 
against  the  constant  danger,  a  hedge  of  the 
rhamnus  had  been  planted,  an  invention  so 
successful  that  now  a  sparrow  could  hardly 
penetrate  the  overtopping  branches,  armed  as 
they  were  with  great  clusters  of  thorns  hard 
as  spikes. 

The  day  of  the  occurrences  which  occupy 
the  preceding  chapters,  a  number  of  shepherds, 
seeking  fresh  walks  for  their  flocks,  led  them 
up  to  this  plain ;  and  from  early  morning  the 
groves  had  been  made  ring  with  calls,  and  the 
blows  of  axes,  the  bleating  of  sheep  and  goats, 
the  tinkling  of  bells,  the  lowing  of  cattle,  and 
the  barking  of  dogs.  When  the  sun  went 
down,  they  led  the  way  to  the  marah,  and  by 
nightfall  had  everything  safe  in  the  field ;  then 
they  kindled  a  fire  down  by  the  gate,  partook 
of  their  humble  supper,  and  sat  down  to  rest 
and  talk,  leaving  one  on  watch. 

There  were  six  of  these  men,  omitting  the 
watchman  ;  and  afterwhile  they  assembled  in 
a  group  near  the  fire,  some  sitting,  some  lying 
prone.  As  they  went  bareheaded  habitually, 
their  hair  stood  out  in  thick,  coarse,  sunburnt 
shocks ;  their  beard  covered  their  throats,  and 
fell  in  mats  down  the  breast ;  mantles  of  the 
Skin  of  kids  and  lambs,  with  the  fleece  on, 
78 


wrapped  them  from  neck  to  knee,  leaving  the 
arms  exposed ;  broad  belts  girthed  the  rude 
garments  to  their  waists;  their  sandals  were 
of  the  coarsest  quality ;  from  their  right  shoul- 
ders hung  scrips  containing  food  and  selected 
stones  for  slings,  with  which  they  were  armed  ; 
on  the  ground  near  each  one  lay  his  crook,  a 
symbol  of  his  calling  and  a  weapon  of  offence. 

Such  were  the  shepherds  of  Judea!  In  ap- 
pearance, rough  and  savage  as  the  gaunt  dogs 
sitting  with  them  around  the  blaze ;  in  fact, 
simple-minded,  tender-hearted  :  effects  due,  in 
part,  to  the  primitive  life  they  led,  but  chiefly 
to  their  constant  care  of  things  lovable  and 
helpless. 

They  rested  and  talked ;  and  their  talk  was 
all  about  their  flocks,  a  dull  theme  to  the 
world,  yet  a  theme  which  was  all  the  world  to 
them.  If  in  narrative  they  dwelt  long  upon  af- 
fairs of  trifling  moment ;  if  one  of  them  omit- 
ted nothing  of  detail  in  recounting  the  loss  of 
a  lamb,  the  relation  between  him  and  the  un- 
fortunate should  be  remembered :  at  birth  it 
became  his  charge,  his  to  keep  all  its  days,  to 
help  over  the  floods,  to  carry  down  the  hol- 
lows, to  name  and  train  ;  it  was  to  be  his  com- 
panion, his  object  of  thought  and  interest,  the 
subject  of  his  will ;  it  was  to  enliven  and  share 
his  wanderings ;  in  its  defence  he  might  be 
called  on  to  face  the  lion  or  robber — to  die. 

The  great  events,  such  as  blotted  out  na- 
tions and  changed  the  mastery  of  the  world, 
were  trifles  to  them,  if  perchance  they  came 
to  their  knowledge.  Of  what  Herod  was  do- 


ing  in  this  city  or  that,  building  palaces  and 
gymnasia,  and  indulging  forbidden  practices, 
they  occasionally  heard.  As  was  her  habit  in 
those  days,  Rome  did  not  wait  for  people  slow 
to  inquire  about  her ;  she  came  to  them.  Over 
the  hills  along  which  he  was  leading  his  lag- 
ging herd,  or  in  the  fastnesses  in  which  he  was 
hiding  them,  not  unfrequently  the  shepherd 
was  startled  by  the  blare  of  trumpets,  and,  peer- 
ing out,  beheld  a  cohort,  sometimes  a  legion, 
in  march  ;  and  when  the  glittering  crests  were 
gone,  and  the  excitement  incident  to  the  in- 
trusion over,  he  bent  himself  to  evolve  the 
meaning  of  the  eagles  and  gilded  globes  of 
the  soldiery,  and  the  charm  of  a  life  so  the  op- 
posite of  his  own. 

Yet  these  men,  rude  and  simple  as  they  were, 
had  a  knowledge  and  a  wisdom  of  their  own. 
On  Sabbaths  they  were  accustomed  to  puri- 
fy themselves,  and  go  up  into  the  synagogues, 
and  sit  on  the  benches  farthest  from  the  ark. 
When  the  chazzan  bore  the  Torah  round,  none 
kissed  it  with  greater  zest ;  when  the  sheliach 
read  the  text,  none  listened  to  the  interpreter 
with  more  absolute  faith  ;  and  none  took  away 
with  them  more  of  the  elder's  sermon,  or  gave 
it  more  thought  afterwards.  In  a  verse  of 
the  Shema  they  found  all  the  learning  and  all 
the  law  of  their  simple  lives — that  their  Lord 
was  One  God,  and  that  they  must  love  him 
with  all  their  souls.  And  they  loved  him,  and 
such  was  their  wisdom,  surpassing  that  of j 
kings. 

While  they  talked,  and  before  the  first  watch 


was  over,  one  by  one  the  shepherds  went  to 
sleep,  each  lying  where  he  had  sat. 

The  night,  like  most  nights  of  the  winter 
season  in  the  hill  country,  was  clear,  crisp,  and 
sparkling  with  stars.  There  was  no  wind.  The 
atmosphere  seemed  never  so  pure,  and  the 
stillness  was  more  than  silence  ;  it  was  a  holy 
hush,  a  warning  that  heaven  was  stooping  low 
to  whisper  some  good  thing  to  the  listening  - 
earth. 

By  the  gate,  hugging  his  mantle  close,  the 
watchman  walked  ;  at  times  he  stopped,  at-  V 
tracted  by  a  stir  among  the  sleeping  herds,  or 
by  a  jackal's  cry  off  on  the  mountain-side.  The  £ 
midnight  was  slow  coming  to  him  ;  but  at  last 
it  came.  His  task  was  done;  now  for  the 
dreamless  sleep  with  which  labor  blesses  its 
wearied  children  !  He  moved  towards  the 
fire,  but  paused  ;  a  light  was  breaking  around 
him,  soft  and  white,  like  the  moon's.  He 
waited  breathlessly.  The  light  deepened  ; 
things  before  invisible  came  to  view  ;  he  saw 
the  whole  field,  and  all  it  sheltered.  A  chill 
sharper  than  that  of  the  frosty  air  —  a  chill  of  » 
fear  —  smote  him.  He  looked  up;  the  stars 
were  gone  ;  the  light  was  dropping  as  from 
a  window  in  the  sky  ;  as  he  looked,  it  became 
a  splendor  ;  then,  in  terror,  he  cried, 

"  Awake,  awake  !" 

Up  sprang  the  dogs,  and,  howling,  ran  away.  , 

The  herds  rushed  together  bewildered. 

The  men  clambered  to  their  feet,  weapons 
in  hand. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  they  asked,  in  one  voice. 


"  See !"  cried  the  watchman,  "  the  sky  is  on 
fire!" 

Suddenly  the  light  became  intolerably 
bright,  and  they  covered  their  eyes,  and  drop- 
ped upon  their  knees ;  then,  as  their  souls 
shrank  with  fear,  they  fell  upon  their  faces 
blind  and  fainting,  and  would  have  died  had 
not  a  voice  said  to  them, 

"  Fear  not !" 

And  they  listened. 

"  Fear  not :  for  behold,  I  bring  you  tidings 
of  great  joy,  which  shall  be  to  all  people." 

The  voice,  in  sweetness  and  soothing  more 
than  human,  and  low  and  clear,  penetrated  all 
their  being,  and  filled  them  with  assurance. 
They  rose  upon  their  knees,  and,  looking  wor- 
shipfully,  beheld  in  the  centre  of  a  great  glory 
the  appearance  of  a  man,  clad  in  a  robe  in- 
tensely white ;  above  its  shoulders  towered  the 
tops  of  wings,  shining  and  folded  ;  a  star  over 
its  forehead  glowed  with  steady  lustre,  brilliant 
as  Hesperus ;  its  hands  were  stretched  towards 
them  in  blessing ;  its  face  was  serene  and  di- 
vinely beautiful. 

They  had  often  heard,  and,  in  their  simple 
way,  talked,  of  angels ;  and  they  doubted  not 
now,  but  said,  in  their  hearts,  The  glory  of  God 
is  about  us,  and  this  is  he  who  of  old  came  to 
the  prophet  by  the  river  of  Ulai. 

Directly  the  angel  continued  : 

"  For  unto  you  is  born  this  day,  in  the  city  of 
David,  a  Saviour,  which  is  Christ  the  Lord !" 

Again  there  was  a  rest,  while  the  words  sank 
into  their  minds. 

82 


"And  this  shall  be  a  sign  unto  you,"  the  an- 
nunciator said  next.  "  Ye  shall  find  the  babe, 
wrapped  in  swaddling-clothes,  lying  in  a  man- 
ger." 

The  herald  spoke  not  again ;  his  good  tidings 
Vere  told ;  yet  he  stayed  a  while.  Suddenly 
the  light,  of  which  he  seemed  the  centre,  turned 
roseate  and  began  to  tremble  ;  then  up,  far  as 
the  men  could  see,  there  was  flashing  of  white 
wings,  and  coming  and  going  of  radiant  forms, 
- "  and  voices  as  of  a  multitude  chanting  in  unison, 

"  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  and  on  earth 
"-',  peace,  good-will  towards  men !" 

Not  once  the  praise,  but  many  times. 

Then  the  herald  raised  his  eyes  as  seeking 
approval  of  one  far  off ;  his  wings  stirred,  and 
spread  slowly  and  majestically,  on  their  upper 
side  white  as  snow,  in  the  shadow  vari-tinted, 
like  mother-of-pearl ;  when  they  were  expand- 
ed many  cubits  beyond  his  stature,  he  arose 
lightly,  and,  without  effort,  floated  out  of  view, 
taking  the  light  up  with  him.  Long  after  he 
was  gone,  down  from  the  sky  fell  the  refrain 
in  measure  mellowed  by  distance,  "  Glory  to 
God  in  the  highest,  and  on  earth  peace,  good- 
will towards  men !" 

When  the  shepherds  came  fully  to  their 
senses,  they  stared  at  each  other  stupidly,  un- 
til one  of  them  said,  "  It  was  Gabriel,  the  Lord's 
messenger  unto  men." 

None  answered. 

"  Christ  the  Lord  is  born  ;  said  he  not  so  ?" 

Then  another  recovered  his  voice,  and  re- 
plied, "  That  is  what  he  said." 


"And  did  he  not  also  say,  In  the  city  of 
David,  which  is  our  Bethlehem  yonder  ?  And 
that  we  should  find  him  a  babe  in  swaddling- 
clothes  ?" 

"  And  lying  in  a  manger." 

The  first  speaker  gazed  into  the  fire  thought- 
fully, but  at  length  said,  like  one  possessed  of 
a  sudden  resolve,  "  There  is  but  one  place  in 
Bethlehem  where  there  are  mangers ;  but  one, 
and  that  is  in  the  cave  near  the  old  khan. 
Brethren,  let  us  go  see  this  thing  which  has 
come  to  pass.  The  priests  and  doctors  have 
been  a  long  time  looking  for  the  Christ.  Now 
he  is  born,  and  the  Lord  has  given  us  a  sign 
by  which  to  know  him.  Let  us  go  up  and 
worship  him." 

"  But  the  flocks !" 

"  The  Lord  will  take  care  of  them.  Let  us 
make  haste."  Then  they  all  arose  and  left  the 
marah. 

Around  the  mountain  and  through  the 
town  they  passed,  and  came  to  the  gate  of  the 
khan,  where  there  was  a  man  on  watch. 

"  What  would  you  have  ?"  he  asked. 

"  We  have  seen  and  heard  great  things  to- 
night," they  replied. 

"  Well,  we,  too,  have  seen  great  things,  but 
heard  nothing.  What  did  you  hear?" 

"  Let  us  go  down  to  the  cave  in  the  enclos- 
ure, that  we  may  be  sure ;  then  we  will  tell  you 
all.  Come  with  us,  and  see  for  yourself." 

"  It  is  a  fool's  errand." 

"  No,  the  Christ  is  born." 


" The  Christ !     How  do  you  know?" 

"  Let  us  go  and  see  first." 

The  man  laughed  scornfully. 

"  The  Christ  indeed !  How  are  you  to  know 
him?" 

"  He  was  born  this  night,  and  is  now  lying 
in  a  manger,  so  we  were  told  ;  and  there  is  but 
one  place  in  Bethlehem  with  mangers." 

"  The  cave  ?" 

"Yes.     Come  with  us." 

They  went  through  the  court-yard  without 
notice,  although  there  were  some  up  even  then 
talking  about  the  wonderful  light.  The  door 
of  the  cavern  was  open.  A  lantern  was  burn- 
ing within,  and  they  entered  unceremoniously. 

"  I  give  you  peace,"  the  watchman  said  to 
Joseph  and  the  Beth-Dagonite.  "Here  are 
people  looking  for  a  child  born  this  night, 
whom  they  are  to  know  by  finding  him  in 
swaddling-clothes  and  lying  in  a  manger." 

For  a  moment  the  face  of  the  stolid  Naza- 
rene  was  moved ;  turning  away,  he  said,  "  The 
child  is  here." 

They  were  led  to  one  of  the  mangers,  and 
there  the  child  was.  The  lantern  was  brought, 
and  the  shepherds  stood  by  mute.  The  little 
one  made  no  sign ;  it  was  as  others  just  born. 

"Where  is  the  mother?"  asked  the  watch- 
man. 

One  of  the  women  took  the  baby,  and  went 
to  Mary,  lying  near,  and  put  it  in  her  arms.  ] 
Then  the  by-standers  collected  about  the  two. ! 

"It  is  the  Christ !"  said  a  shepherd,  at  last.   | 

"  The  Christ !"  they  all  repeated,  falling  upon 


6 


their  knees  in  worship.  One  of  them  repeated 
several  times  over, 

"  It  is  the  Lord,  and  his  glory  is  above  the 
earth  and  heaven." 

And  the  simple  men,  never  doubting,  kissed 
the  hem  of  the  mother's  robe,  and  with  joyful 
faces  departed.  In  the  khan,  to  all  the  people 
aroused  and  pressing  about  them,  they  told 
their  story ;  and  through  the  town,  and  all  the 
way  back  to  the  marah,  they  chanted  the  re- 
frain of  the  angels,  "  Glory  to  God  in  the  high- 
est, and  on  earth  peace,  good  -  will  towards 
men !" 

The  story  went  abroad,  confirmed  by  the  light 
so  generally  seen ;  and  the  next  day,  and  for 
days  thereafter,  the  cave  was  visited  by  curi- 
ous crowds,  of  whom  some  believed,  though 
the  greater  part  laughed  and  mocked. 


CHAPTER    XII 
THE  WISE  MEN   ARRIVE  AT  JERUSALEM 

iHE  eleventh  day  after  the  birth  of  the 
child  in  the  cave,  about  mid-after- 
noon, the  three  wise  men  approach- 
ed Jerusalem  by  the  road  from  She- 
After  crossing  Brook  Cedron,  they 
met  many  people,  of  whom  none  failed  to  stop 
and  look  after  them  curiously. 

Judea  was  of  necessity  an  international  thor- 
oughfare; a  narrow  ridge,  raised,  apparently, 
by  the  pressure  of  the  desert  on  the  east,  and 
the  sea  on  the  west,  was  all  she  could  claim 


chem. 


A    V 


to  be ;   over  the  ridge,  however,  nature  had  \ 

stretched  the  line  of  trade  between  the  east 

and  the  south ;  and  that  was  her  wealth.     In 

other  words,  the  riches  of  Jerusalem  were  the 

tolls  she  levied  on  passing  commerce.     No- 

51  vvhere  else,  consequently,  unless  in  Rome,  was 

%  there  such  constant  assemblage  of  so  many 

^people  of  so  many  different  nations;   in  no 

\  other  city  was  a  stranger  less  strange  to  the 

:  •  residents  than  within  her  walls  and  purlieus. 

'  And  yet  these  three  men  excited  the  wonder 

i  of  all  whom  they  met  on  the  way  to  the  gates. 

A  child  belonging  to  some  women  sitting  by>; 
the  road-side  opposite  the  Tombs  of  the  Kings 
saw  the  party  coming ;  immediately  it  clapped  1^ 
its  hands,  and  cried, "  Look,  look !  What  pretty  & 
bells !     What  big  camels  !" 

The  bells  were  silver;  the  camels,  as  we  have 
seen,  were  of  unusual  size  and  whiteness,  and 
moved  with  singular  stateliness ;  the  trappings 
told  of  the  desert  and  of  long  journeys  there- 
on, and  also  of  ample  means  in  possession  of 
the  owners,  who  sat  under  the  little  canopies 
exactly  as  they  appeared  at  the  rendezvous 
beyond  the  Jebel.  Yet  it  was  not  the  bells  or 
the  camels,  or  their  furniture,  or  the  demeanor 
of  the  riders,  that  were  so  wonderful ;  it  was 
the  question  put  by  the  man  who  rode  fore- 
most of  the  three. 

The  approach  to  Jerusalem  from  the  north 
is  across  a  plain  which  dips  southward,  leaving 
the  Damascus  Gate  in  a  vale  or  hollow.  The 
road  is  narrow,  but  deeply  cut  by  long  use,  and 
in  places  difficult  on  account  of  the  cobbles 
87 


left  loose  and  dry  by  the  washing  of  the  rains. 
On  either  side,  however,  there  stretched,  in  the 
old  time,  rich  fields  and  handsome  olive-groves, 
which  must,  in  luxurious  growth,  have  been 
beautiful,  especially  to  travellers  fresh  from  »..^ 
the  wastes  of  the  desert.  In  this  road  the 
three  stopped  before  the  party  in  front  of  the 
Tombs. 

"  Good  people,"  said  Balthasar,  stroking  his 
plaited  beard,  and  bending  from  his  cot,  "  is 
not  Jerusalem  close  by  ?" 

"Yes,"  answered  the  woman  into  whose 
arms  the  child  had  shrunk.  "  If  the  trees  on 
yon  swell  were  a  little  lower  you  could  see  the 
towers  on  the  market-place." 

Balthasar  gave  the  Greek  and  the  Hindoo  ap 
look,  then  asked, 

"Where  is  he  that  is  born  King  of  the 
Jews?" 

The  women  gazed  at  each  other  without  re- 
f  ply. 

"  You  have  not  heard  of  him  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Well,  tell  everybody  that  we  have  seen  his 
star  in  the  east,  and  are  come  to  worship  him." 

Thereupon  the  friends  rode  on.    Of  others' 
they  asked  the  same  question,  with  like  result. 
A  large  company  whom  they  met  going  to  the 
Grotto  of  Jeremiah  were  so  astonished  by  the 
inquiry  and  the  appearance  of  the  travellers  ; 
that  they  turned  about  and  followed  them  into 
the  city. 

So  much  were  the  three  occupied  with  the  '.<• 
idea  of  their  mission  that  they  did  not  care  for 


^4  fF3  P<*  i 


the  view  which  presently  rose  before  them  in 
the  utmost  magnificence :  for  the  village  first 
to  receive  them  on  Bezetha;  for  Mizpah  and 
Olivet,  over  on  their  left ;  for  the  wall  behind 
the  village,  with  its  forty  tall  and  solid  towers, 
superadded  partly  for  strength,  partly  to  grat- 
ify the  critical  taste  of  the  kingly  builder ;  for 
the  same  towered  wall  bending  off  to  the  right, 
with  many  an  angle,  and  here  and  there  an  em-  - 
battled  gate,  up  to  the  three  great  white  piles 
Phasaelus,  Mariamne,  and  Hippicus;  for  Zion, 
tallest  of  the  hills,  crowned  with  marble  pal- 
aces, and  never  so  beautiful ;  for  the  glittering 
terraces  of  the  temple  on  Moriah,  admittedly 
one  of  the  wonders  of  the  earth  ;  for  the  regal 
mountains  rimming  the  sacred  city  round 
about  until  it  seemed  in  the  hollow  of  a 
mighty  bowl. 

They  came,  at  length,  to  a  tower  of  great 
height  and  strength,  overlooking  the  gate 
which,  at  that  time,  answered  to  the  present 
Damascus  Gate,  and  marked  the  meeting-place 
of  the  three  roads  from  Shechem,  Jericho,  and 
Gibeon.  A  Roman  guard  kept  the  passage- 
way. By  this  time  the  people  following  the 
camels  formed  a  train  sufficient  to  draw  the 
idlers  hanging  about  the  portal ;  so  that  when 
Balthasar  stopped  to  speak  to  the  sentinel,  the 
three  became  instantly  the  centre  of  a  close 
circle  eager  to  hear  all  that  passed. 

"  I  give  you  peace,"  the  Egyptian  said,  in  a 
clear  voice. 

The  sentinel  made  no  reply. 

"  We  have  come  great  distances  in  search  of 
89 


one  who  is  born  King  of  the  Jews.    Can  you  • 
tell  us  where  he  is  ?" 

The  soldier  raised  the  visor  of  his  helmet, 
and  called  loudly.  From  an  apartment  at  the 
right  of  the  passage  an  officer  appeared. 

"  Give  way,"  he  cried,  to  the  crowd  whichi 
now  pressed  closer  in ;  and  as  they  seemed  slow>; 
to  obey,  he  advanced  twirling  his  javelin  vig-t': 
orously.  now  right,  now  left ;  and  so  he  gained-, 
room. 

"  What  would  you  ?"  he  asked  of  Balthasar,; 
speaking  in  the  idiom  of  the  city. 

And  Balthasar  answered  in  the  same, 

"  Where  is  he  that  is  born  King  of  the  Jews  ?"c 

"  Herod  ?"  asked  the  officer,  confounded. 

"  Herod's  kingship  is  from  Caesar ;  not  Her- 
od." 

"  There  is  no  other  King  of  the  Jews." 

"  But  we  have  seen  the  star  of  him  we  seek, 
i'S,  and  come  to  worship  him." 

The  Roman  was  perplexed. 

"  Go  farther,"  he  said,  at  last.  "  Go  farther. 
I  am  not  a  Jew.  Carry  the  question  to  the  doc- 
tors in  the  Temple,  or  to  Hannas  the  priest,  or, 
better  still,  to  Herod  himself.  If  there  be  an- 
other King  of  the  Jews,  he  will  find  him." 

Thereupon  he  made  way  for  the  strangers, 
and  they  passed  the  gate.  But,  before  enter- 
ing the  narrow  street,  Balthasar  lingered  to  say 
to  his  friends,  "  We  are  sufficiently  proclaimed. 
By  midnight  the  whole  city  will  have  heard  of 
us  and  of  our  mission.  Let  us  to  the  khan 
now." 


Siloam. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
THE  WITNESSES   BEFORE  HEROD 

)HAT  evening,  before  sunset,  some 
women  were  washing  clothes  on  the 
upper  step  of  the  flight  that  led 
down  into  the  basin  of  the  Pool  of 
They  knelt  each  before  a  broad  bowl 
of  earthen-ware.  A  girl  at  the  foot  of  the  steps 
kept  them  supplied  with  water,  and  sang  while 
she  filled  the  jar.  The  song  was  cheerful,  and 
no  doubt  lightened  their  labor.  Occasionally 
they  would  sit  upon  their  heels,  and  look  up 
the  slope  of  Ophel,  and  round  to  the  summit  of  j 
what  is  now  the  Mount  of  Offence,  then  faintly  J 
glorified  by  the  dying  sun. 

While  they  plied  their  hands,  rubbing  and 
wringing  the  clothes  in  the  bowls,  two  other 
women  came  to  them,  each  with  an  empty  jar 
upon  her  shoulder. 

"  Peace  to  you,"  one  of  the  new-comers  said. 

The  laborers  paused,  sat  up,  wrung  the  water 
from  their  hands,  and  returned  the  salutation. 

"  It  is  nearly  night — time  to  quit." 

"  There  is  no  end  to  work,"  was  the  reply. 

"  But  there  is  a  time  to  rest,  and — " 

"  To  hear  what  may  be  passing,"  interposed, 
another. 

"  What  news  have  you  ?" 

"  Then  you  have  not  heard  ?" 

"  No." 


r^ 
-^far 

V'tjr 

rl-*,  t  _.vt 


"V^i 


-'.  M    N 


^* 


"  They  say  the  Christ  is  born,"  said  the  news- 
monger, plunging  into  her  story. 

It  was  curious  to  see  the  faces  of  the  labor- 
ers brighten  with  interest ;  on  the  other  side 
down  came  the  jars,  which,  in  a  moment,  were 
turned  into  seats  for  their  owners. 

"  The  Christ !"  the  listeners  cried. 

"  So  they  say." 

"Who?" 

"  Everybody ;  it  is  common  talk." 

"  Does  anybody  believe  it  ?" 

"  This  afternoon  three  men  came  across 
Brook  Cedron  on  the  road  from  Shechem," 
the  speaker  replied,  circumstantially,  intend- 
ing to  smother  doubt.  "  Each  one  of  them 
•.  rode  a  camel  spotless  white,  and  larger  than 
any  ever  before  seen  in  Jerusalem." 

The  eyes  and  mouths  of  the  auditors  opened*^  fV~' 
wide. 


"To  prove  how  great  and  rich  the  men 
were,"  the  narrator  continued,  "  they  sat  under 
awnings  of  silk ;  the  buckles  of  their  saddles 
were  of  gold,  as  was  the  fringe  of  their  bridles ; 
the  bells  were  of  silver,  and  made  real  music. 
Nobody  knew  them ;  they  looked  as  if  they 
had  come  from  the  ends  of  the  world.  Only 
one  of  them  spoke,  and  of  everybody  on  the 
road,  even  the  women  and  children,  he  asked 
this  question — '  Where  is  he  that  is  born  King 
of  the  Jews  ?'  No  one  gave  them  answer — 
no  one  understood  what  they  meant ;  so  they 
passed  on,  leaving  behind  them  this  saying : 
'  For  we  have  seen  his  star  in  the  east,  and  are 
come  to  worship  him.'  They  put  the  question 


to  the  Roman  at  the  gate ;  and  he,  no  wiser 
than  the  simple  people  on  the  road,  sent  them 
up  to  Herod." 

"  Where  are  they  now  ?" 

"At  the  khan.  Hundreds  have  been  to  look 
at  them  already,  and  hundreds  more  are  go- 
ing." 

"  Who  are  they  ?" 

"  Nobody  knows.  They  are  said  to  be  Per- 
sians—  wise  men  who  talk  with  the  stars  — 
prophets,  it  may  be,  like  Elijah  and  Jeremiah." 

"What  do  they  mean  by  King  of  the  Jews?" 

"  The  Christ,  and  that  he  is  just  born." 

One  of  the  women  laughed,  and  resumed 
her  work,  saying,  "  Well,  when  I  see  him  I  will 
believe." 

Another  followed  her  example :  "And  I  — 
well,  when  I  see  him  raise  the  dead,  I  will  be- 
lieve." 

A  third  said  quietly,  "  He  has  been  a  long 
time  promised.  It  will  be  enough  for  me  to 
see  him  heal  one  leper." 

And  the  party  sat  talking  until  the  night 
'came,  and,  with  the  help  of  the  frosty  air,  drove 
them  home. 

Later  in  the  evening,  about  the  beginning 
of  the  first  watch,  there  was  an  assemblage 
in  the  palace  on  Mount  Zion,  of  probably  fifty 
persons,  who  never  came  together  except  by 
order  of  Herod,  and  then  only  when  he  had 
demanded  to  know  some  one  or  more  of  the 
deeper  mysteries  of  the  Jewish  law  and  his- 
tory. It  was,  in  short,  a  meeting  of  the  teach- 

93 

R1& 


.&*~> 


ers  of  the  colleges,  of  the  chief  priests,  and  of 
the  doctors  most  noted  in  the  city  for  learning 
— the  leaders  of  opinion,  expounders  of  the 
different  creeds ;  princes  of  the  Sadducees ; 
Pharisaic  debaters ;  calm,  soft-spoken,  stoical 
philosophers  of  the  Essene  socialists. 
The  chamber  in  which  the  session  was  held 

.;  belonged  to  one  of  the  interior  court-yards  of 
the  palace,  and  was  quite  large  and  Roman- 
esque. The  floor  was  tessellated  with  marble 
blocks ;  the  walls,  unbroken  by  a  window,  were 
frescoed  in  panels  of  saffron-yellow;  a  divan 
occupied  the  centre  of  the  apartment,  covered 
with  cushions  of  bright-yellow  cloth,  and  fash- 
ioned in  form  of  the  letter  U,  the  opening  tow- 

'•\  ards  the  door-way ;  in  the  arch  of  the  divan, 
or,  as  it  were,  in  the  bend  of  the  letter,  there 
was  an  immense  bronze  tripod,  curiously  in- 
laid with  gold  and  silver,  over  which  a  chan- 
delier dropped  from  the  ceiling,  having  seven 
arms,  each  holding  a  lighted  lamp.  The  divan 
and  the  lamp  were  purely  Jewish. 

The  company  sat  upon  the  divan  after  the 
style  of  Orientals,  in  costume  singularly  uni- 
form, except  as  to  color.  They  were  mostly 
men  advanced  in  years ;  immense  beards  cov- 
ered their  faces ;  to  their  large  noses  were 
added  the  effects  of  large  black  eyes,  deeply 
shaded  by  bold  brows;  their  demeanor  was 
grave,  dignified,  even  patriarchal.  In  brief, 
their  session  was  that  of  the  Sanhedrim. 

He  who  sat  before  the  tripod,  however,  in 
the  place  which  may  be  called  the  head  of  the 
divan,  having  all  the  rest  of  his  associates  on 

94 


his  right  and  left,  and,  at  the  same  time,  be- 
fore him,  evidently  president  of  the  meeting, 
would  have  instantly  absorbed  the  attention 
of  a  spectator.  He  had  been  cast  in  large 
mould,  but  was  now  shrunken  and  stooped  to 
ghastliness ;  his  white  robe  dropped  from  his 
shoulders  in  folds  that  gave  no  hint  of  mus- 
cle or  anything  but  an  angular  skeleton.  His 
hands,  half-concealed  by  sleeves  of  silk,  white 
and  crimson  striped,  were  clasped  upon  his 
knees.  When  he  spoke,  sometimes  the  first 
finger  of  the  right  hand  extended  tremulous- 
ly ;  he  seemed  incapable  of  other  gesture.  But 
his  head  was  a  splendid  dome.  A  few  hairs, 
whiter  than  fine-drawn  silver,  fringed  the  base; 
over  a  broad,  full-sphered  skull  the  skin  was 
drawn  close,  and  shone  in  the  light  with  pos-> 
itive  brilliance ;  the  temples  were  deep  hol- 
lows, from  which  the  forehead  beetled  like  a 
wrinkled  crag;  the  eyes  were  wan  and  dim; 
the  nose  was  pinched ;  and  all  the  lower  face 
was  muffled  in  a  beard  flowing  and  venerable 
as  Aaron's.  Such  was  Hillel  the  Babylonian ! 
The  line  of  prophets,  long  extinct  in  Israel, 
was  now  succeeded  by  a  line  of  scholars,  of 
whom  he  was  first  in  learning — a  prophet  in 
all  but  the  divine  inspiration !  At  the  age  of 
one  hundred  and  six,  he  was  still  Rector  of 
the  Great  College. 

On  the  table  before  him  lay  out-spread  a  roll 
or  volume  of  parchment  inscribed  with  He- 
brew characters ;  behind  him,  in  waiting,  stood 
a  page  richly  habited. 

There  had  been  discussion,  but  at  this  mo- 

95 


ment  of  introduction  the  company  had  reached 
a  conclusion ;  each  one  was  in  an  attitude  of 
rest,  and  the  venerable  Hillel,  without  mov- 
ing, called  the  page. 
"Hist!" 

The  youth  advanced  respectfully. 
"  Go  tell  the  king  we  are  ready  to  give  him 
answer." 

The  boy  hurried  away. 
After  a  time  two  officers  entered  and  stop- 
ped, one  on  each  side  the  door;  after  them 
slowly  followed  a  most  striking  personage — an 
old  man  clad  in  a  purple  robe  bordered  with 
/  scarlet,  and  girt  to  his  waist  by  a  band  of  gold 
linked  so  fine  that  it  was  pliable  as  leather; 
••  the  latchets  of  his  shoes  sparkled  with  pre- 
»'  cious  stones  ;  a  narrow  crown  wrought  in  fili- 
'  i  gree  shone  outside  atarbooshe  of  softest  crim- 
1  son  plush,  which,  encasing  his  head,  fell  down 
1  the   neck  and   shoulders,  leaving  the  throat 
.  and  neck  exposed.     Instead  of  a  seal,  a  dag- 
j^,  ger  dangled  from  his  belt.    He  walked  with  a 
halting  step,  leaning  heavily  upon  a  staff.   Not 
until  he  reached  the  opening  of  the  divan  did 
he  pause  or  look  up  from  the  floor ;  then,  as 
for  the  first  time  conscious  of  the  company, 
and  roused  by  their  presence,  he  raised  him- 
self, and  looked  haughtily  round,  like  one  star- 
tled and  searching  for  an  enemy — so  dark,  sus- 
,-•'  picious,  and  threatening  was  the  glance.    Such 
was  Herod  the  Great — a  body  broken  by  dis- 
eases, a  conscience  seared  with  crimes,  a  mind 
I  magnificently  capable,  a  soul  fit  for  brother- 
;hood  with  the  Caesars;  now  seven-and-sixty 
96 


THE    MADONNA    OF    THE    OLIVE-BRANC 

(After  the  painting  by  N.  Rarabino) 


H 


years  old,  but  guarding  his  throne  with  a  jeal- 
ousy never  so  vigilant,  a  power  never  so  des- 
potic, and  a  cruelty  never  so  inexorable. 

There  was  a  general  movement  on  the  part 
of  the  assemblage — a  bending  forward  in  sa- 
laam by  the  more  aged,  a  rising-up  by  the  mo: 
courtierly,  followed  by  low  genuflections,  hands 
upon  the  beard  or  breast. 

His  observations  taken,  Herod  moved  on 
until  at  the  tripod  opposite  the  venerable  HiHv, 
lei,  who  met  his  cold  glance  with  an  inclina- '""* 
tion  of  the  head,  and  a  slight  lifting  of  the 
hands. 

"  The  answer !"  said  the  king,  with  imperi-  > 
ous  simplicity,  addressing  Hillel,  and  planting 
his  staff  before  him  with  both  hands.     "  The 
answer !" 

The  eyes  of  the  patriarch  glowed  mildly,  z^  _ 
and,  raising  his  head,  and  looking  the  inquis- 
itor full  in  the  face,  he  answered,  his  associates 
giving  him  closest  attention  : 

"  With  thee,  O  king,  be  the  peace  of  God,  of 
Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob  !" 

His  manner  was  that  of  invocation  ;  chang-    ;7 
ing  it,  he  resumed  : 

"  Thou  hast  demanded  of  us  where  the  Christ 
should  be  born." 

The  king  bowed,  though  the  evil  eyes  re- 
mained fixed  upon  the  sage's  face. 

"  That  is  the  question." 

"  Then,  O  king,  speaking  for  myself,  and  all 
my  brethren  here,  not  one  dissenting,  I  say,  in 
Bethlehem  of  Judea." 

Hillel  glanced  at  the  parchment  on  the  tri- 

97 


pod  ;  and,  pointing  with  his  tremulous  finger, 
continued,  "  In  Bethlehem  of  Judea,  for  thus 
it  is  written  by  the  prophet, '  And  thou,  Beth- 
lehem, in  the  land  of  Judea,  art  not  the  least 
among  the  princes  of  Judah ;  for  out  of  thee 
shall  come  a  governor  that  shall  rule  my  peo- 
ple Israel.' " 

Herod's  face  was  troubled,  and  his  eyes  fell 
upon  the  parchment  while  he  thought.  Those 
beholding  him  scarcely  breathed;  they  spoke 
not,  nor  did  he.  At  length  he  turned  about 
and  left  the  chamber. 

"  Brethren," said  Hillel,  "we  are  dismissed." 

The  company  then  arose,  and  in  groups  de- 
parted. 

"  Simeon,"  said  Hillel  again. 

A  man,  quite  fifty  years  old,  but  in  the  hearty 
prime  of  life,  answered  and  came  to  him. 

"Take  up  the  sacred  parchment,  my  son; 
roll  it  tenderly." 

The  order  was  obeyed. 

"  Now  lend  me  thy  arm ;  I  will  to  the  litter." 

The  strong  man  stooped ;  with  his  withered 
hands  the  old  man  took  the  offered  support, 
and,  rising,  moved  feebly  to  the  door. 

So  departed  the  famous  Rector,  and  Simeon, 
his  son,  who  was  to  be  his  successor  in  wisdom, 
learning,  and  office. 

Yet  later  in  the  evening  the  wise  men  were 
lying  in  a  lewen  of  the  khan  awake.  The 
stones  which  served  them  as  pillows  raised 
their  heads  so  they  could  look  out  of  the  open 
arch  into  the  depths  of  the  sky ;  and  as  they 
08 


-  watched  the  twinkling  of  tne  stars,  they  thought 
of  the  next  manifestation.  How  would  it  come  ? 
What  would  it  be  ?     They  were  in  Jerusale 
at  last;  they  had  asked  at  the  gate  for  Him 
they  sought;  they  had  borne  witness  of  his 
birth;  it  remained  only  to  find  him;  and  as  to,; 
that,  they  placed  all  trust  in  the  Spirit.     Men, 
listening  for  the  voice  of  God,  or  waiting  a  sig 
from  Heaven,  cannot  sleep. 

While  they  were  in  this  condition,  a  ma 
stepped  in  under  the  arch,  darkening  the  lewen 

"  Awake  !"  he  said  to  thern ;  "  I  bring  you 
message  which  will  not  be  put  off." 

They  all  sat  up. 

"  From  whom  ?"  asked  the  Egyptian. 

"  Herod  the  king." 

Each  one  felt  his  spirit  thrill. 

"  Are  you  not  the  steward  of  the  khan  ?" 
Balthasar  asked  next. 

"  I  am." 

"  What  would  the  king  with  us  ?" 

"  His  messenger  is  without ;  let  him  answer." 

"Tell  him,  then,  to  abide  our  coming." 

"You  were  right,  O  my  brother !"  said  the 
Greek,  when  the  steward  was  gone. .  "  The 
question  put  to  the  people  on  the  road,  and  to 
the  guard  at  the  gate,  has  given  us  quick  no- 
toriety. I  am  impatient ;  let  us  up  quickly." 

They  arose,  put  on  their  sandals,  girt  their 
mantles  about  them,  and  went  out. 

"  I  salute  you,  and  give  you  peace,  and  pray 
your  pardon ;  but  my  master,  the  king,  has  sent 
me  to  invite  you  to  the  palace,  where  he  would 
have  speech  with  you  privately." 


A 


:  /   i  — .t, 

./  u;    ff 

VA  -.       ( 


Thus  the  messenger  discharged  his  duty. 

A  lamp  hung  in  the  entrance,  and  by  its  light 
they  looked  at  each  other,  and  knew  the  Spirit 
was  upon  them.  Then  the  Egyptian  stepped 
to  the  steward,  and  said,  so  as  not  to  be  heard 
by  the  others, "  You  know  where  our  goods  are 
stored  in  the  court,  and  where  our  camels  are 
resting.  While  we  are  gone,  make  all  things 
ready  for  our  departure,  if  it  should  be  need- 
ful." 

"  Go  your  way  assured  ;  trust  me,"  the  stew- 
ard replied.  «S?"~ 

"  The  king's  will  is  our  will,"  said  Balthasar 
to  the  messenger.  "  We  will  follow  you." 

The  streets  of  the  Holy  City  were  narrow 
then  as  now,  but  not  so  rough  and  foul ;  for 
the  great  builder,  not  content  with  beauty,  en- 
forced cleanliness  and  convenience  also.    Fol-^ 
lowing  their  guide,  the  brethren   proceeded 
without  a  word.     Through  the  dim  starlight, 
made  dimmer  by  the  walls  on  both  sides,  some- 
times almost  lost  under  bridges  connecting  the  it, 
house-tops,  out  of  a  low  ground  they  ascended 
a  hill.    At  last  they  came  to  a  portal  reared     > 
across  the  way.     In  the  light  of  fires  blazing 
before  it  in  two  great  braziers,  they  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  structure,  and  also  of  some 
guards  leaning  motionlessly  upon  their  arms.. 
They  passed   into  a  building  unchallenged.  .-$ 
Then  by  passages  and  arched  halls ;  through 
courts,  and  under  colonnades  not  always  light- . 
'ed ;  up  long  flights  of  stairs,  past  innumerable 
cloisters  and  chambers,  they  were  conducted 
into  a  tower  of  great  height.    Suddenly  the^~  , 


I 


guide  halted,  and,  pointing  through  an  open 
door,  said  to  them, 

"  Enter.     The  king  is  there." 

The  air  of  the  chamber  was  heavy  with  the 
perfume  of  sandal-wood,  and  all  the  appoint- 
ments within  were  effeminately  rich.  Upon 
the  floor,  covering  the  central  space,  a  tufted 
rug  was  spread,  and  upon  that  a  throne  was  set. 
The  visitors  had  but  time,  however,  to  catch  a 
confused  idea  of  the  place — of  carved  and  gilt 
ottomans  and  couches ;  of  fans  and  jars  and 
musical  instruments ;  of  golden  candlesticks 
glittering  in  their  own  lights;  of  walls  painted 
in  the  style  of  the  voluptuous  Grecian  school, 
one  look  at  which  had  made  a  Pharisee  hide 
his  head  with  holy  horror.  Herod,  sitting  upon 
the  throne  to  receive  them,  clad  as  when  at 
the  conference  with  the  doctors  and  lawyers, 
claimed  all  their  minds. 

At  the  edge  of  the  rug,  to  which  they  ad- 
vanced uninvited,  they  prostrated  themselves. 
The  king  touched  a  bell.  An  attendant  came 
in,  and  placed  three  stools  before  the  throne. 

"  Seat  yourselves,"  said  the  monarch,  gra- 
ciously. 

"  From  the  North  Gate,"  he  continued,  when 
they  were  at  rest,  "  I  had  this  afternoon  re- 
port of  the  arrival  of  three  strangers,  curiously 
mounted,  and  appearing  as  if  from  far  coun- 
tries. Are  you  the  men  ?" 

The  Egyptian  took  the  sign  from  the  Greek 
and  the  Hindoo,  and  answered,  with  the  pro- 
foundest  salaam,  "  Were  we  other  than  we  are, 
the  mighty  Herod,  whose  fame  is  as  incense  to 


the  whole  world,  would  not  have  sent  for  us. 
We  may  not  doubt  that  we  are  the  strangers." 

Herod  acknowledged  the  speech  with  a  wave 
of  the  hand. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  Whence  do  you  come  ?" 
he  asked,  adding  significantly,  "  Let  each  speak 
for  himself." 

In  turn  they  gave  him  account,  referring  sim- 
,  ply  to  the  cities  and  lands  of  their  birth,  and 
the  routes  by  which  they  came  to  Jerusalem. 
Somewhat  disappointed,  Herod   plied  them 
more  directly. 

"  What  was  the  question  you  put  to  the  offi- 
Xcer  at  the  gate  ?" 
^  "  We  asked  him,  '  Where  is  he  that  is  born 

King  of  the  Jews?'  " 

!  "  I  see  now  why  the  people  were  so  curious. 
You  excite  me  no  less.  Is  there  another  King 
of  the  Jews  ?" 

The  Egyptian  did  not  blanch. 

"There  is  one  newly  born." 

An  expression  of  pain  knit  the  dark  face  of 
the  monarch,  as  if  his  mind  were  swept  by  a 
harrowing  recollection. 

"  Not  to  me,  not  to  me  !"  he  exclaimed. 

Possibly  the  accusing  images  of  his  mur- 
dered children  flitted  before  him;  recovering 
from  the  emotion,  whatever  it  was,  he  asked, 
steadily,  "  Where  is  the  new  king?" 

"  That,  O  king,  is  what  we  would  ask." 

"You  bring  me  a  wonder  —  a  riddle  surpass- 
ing any  of  Solomon's,"  the  inquisitor  said  next. 
"  As  you  see,  I  am  in  the  time  of  life  when  cu- 
riosity is  as  ungovernable  as  it  was  in  child- 


hood,  when  to  trifle  with  it  is  cruelty.  Tell  me 
further,  and  I  will  honor  you  as  kings  honor 
each  other.  Give  me  all  you  know  about  the 
newly-born,  and  I  will  join  you  in  the  search 
for  him ,  and  when  we  have  found  him,  I  will 
do  what  you  wish ,  I  will  bring  him  to  Jerusa- 
lem, and  tram  him  in  kingcraft ;  I  will  use  my 
grace  with  Caesar  for  his  promotion  and  glory. 
Jealousy  shall  not  come  between  us,  so  I  swear. 
But  tell  me  first  how,  so  widely  separated  by 
seas  and  deserts,  you  all  came  to  hear  of  him." 

"  I  will  tell  you  truly,  O  king." 

"  Speak  on,"  said  Herod. 

Balthasar  raised  himself  erect,  and  said,  sol- 
emnly, 

"  There  is  an  Almighty  God." 

Herod  was  visibly  startled. 

"  He  bade  us  come  hither,  promising  that  we 
should  find  the  Redeemer  of  the  World  ;  that 
we  should  see  and  worship  him,  and  bear  wit- 
ness that  he  was  come ,  and,  as  a  sign,  we  were 
each  given  to  see  a  star.  His  Spirit  stayed 
with  us.  O  king,  his  Spirit  is  with  us  now  !" 

An  overpowering  feeling  seized  the  three. 
The  Greek  with  difficulty  restrained  an  outcry. 
Herod's  gaze  darted  quickly  from  one  to  the 
other ;  he  was  more  suspicious  and  dissatisfied 
than  before. 

"  You  are  mocking  me,"  he  said.  "If  not, 
tell  me  more.  What  is  to  follow  the  coming 
of  the  new  king  ?" 

"  The  salvation  of  men." 

"  From  what  ?" 

"  Their  wickedness." 


"How?" 

"  By  the  divine  agencies — Faith,  Love,  and 
Good  Works." 

"  Then  " — Herod  paused,  and  from  his  look 
no  man  could  have  said  with  what  feeling  he 
continued — "  you  are  the  heralds  of  the  Christ. 
Is  that  all  ?" 

Balthasar  bowed  low. 

"  We  are  your  servants,  O  king." 

The  monarch  touched  a  bell,  and  the  attend- 
ant appeared. 

"  Bring  the  gifts,"  the  master  said. 

The  attendant  went  out,  but  in  a  little  while 
returned,  and,  kneeling  before  the  guests,  gave 
to  each  one  an  outer  robe  or  mantle  of  scar- 
let and  blue,  and  a  girdle  of  gold.  They  ac- 
knowledged the  honors  with  Eastern  prostra- 
tions. 

"  A  word  further,"  said  Herod,  when  the 
ceremony  was  ended.  "  To  the  officer  of  the 
gate,  and  but  now  to  me,  you  spoke  of  seeing 
a  star  in  the  east." 

"  Yes,"  said  Balthasar,  "  his  star,  the  star  of 
the  newly  born." 

"  What  time  did  it  appear  ?" 

"  When  we  were  bidden  come  hither." 

Herod  arose,  signifying  the  audience  was 
over.  Stepping  from  the  throne  towards  them, 
he  said,  with  all  graciousness, 

"  If,  as  I  believe,  O  illustrious  men,  you  are 
indeed  the  heralds  of  the  Christ  just  born, 
know  that  I  have  this  night  consulted  those 
wisest  in  things  Jewish,  and  they  say  with  one 
voice  he  should  be  born  in  Bethlehem  of  Ju- 


dea.  I  say  to  you,  go  thither  ;  go  and  search 
diligently  for  the  young  child  ;  and  when  you 
have  found  him  bring  me  word  again,  that  I 
may  come  and  worship  him.  To  your  going 
there  shall  be  no  let  or  hinderance.  Peace  be 
with  you  !" 

And,  folding  his  robe  about  him,  he  left  the 
chamber. 

Directly  the  guide  came,  and  led  them  back 
to  the  street,  and  thence  to  the  khan,  at  the 
portal  of  which  the  Greek  said,  impulsively, 
"  Let  us  to  Bethlehem,  O  brethren,  as  the  king 
has  advised." 

"  Yes,"  cried  the  Hindoo.  "  The  Spirit  burns 
within  me." 

"  Be  it  so,"  said  Balthasar,  with  equal 
warmth.  "  The  camels  are  ready." 

They  gave  gifts  to  the  steward,  mounted 
into  their  saddles,  received  directions  to  the 
Joppa  Gate,  and  departed.  At  their  approach 
the  great  valves  were  unbarred,  and  they  pass- 
ed out  into  the  open  country,  taking  the  road 
so  lately  travelled  by  Joseph  and  Mary.  As 
they  came  up  out  of  Hinnom,  on  the  plain  of 
Rephaim,  a  light  appeared,  at  first  wide-spread 
and  faint.  Their  pulses  fluttered  fast.  The 
light  intensified  rapidly ;  they  closed  their  eyes 
against  its  burning  brilliance  :  when  they  dared 
look  again,  lo !  the  star,  perfect  as  any  in  the 
heavens,  but  low  down  and  moving  slowly  be- 
fore them.  And  they  folded  their  hands,  and 
shouted,  and  rejoiced  with  exceeding  great 
joy. 

"  God  is  with  us !  God  is  with  us !"  they  re- 
105 


W 


h«. 


§ 


-  peated,  in  frequent  cheer,  all  the  way,  until  the 
r^  star,  rising  out  of  the  valley  beyond  Mar  Elias, 
g  stood  still  over  a  house  up  on  the  slope  of  the 
hill  near  the  town. 


CHAPTER   XIV 
THE   WISE   MEN    FIND   THE   CHILD 

|T  was  now  the  beginning  of  the  third 
watch,  and  at  Bethlehem  the  morn- 
ing was  breaking  over  the  mountains 
in  the  east,  but  so  feebly  that  it  was 
yet  night  in  the  valley.    The  watchman  on  the 
roof  of  the  old   khan,  shivering  in  the  chilly 
air,  was  listening  for  the  first  distinguishable 
sounds  with  which  life,  awakening,  greets  the 
dawn,  when  a  light  came  moving  up  the  hill 
towards  the  house.     He  thought  it  a  torch  in 
some  one's  hand ;  next  moment  he  thought  it 
a  meteor ;  the  brilliance  grew,  however,  until 
it  became  a  star.     Sore  afraid,  he  cried  out, 
and  brought  everybody  within  the  walls  to  the 
roof.     The  phenomenon,  in  eccentric  motion, 

rocks,  trees,  and 
in  a  glare  of  light- 
became  blinding. 

iThe  more  timid  of  the  beholders  fell  upon 
their  knees,  and  prayed,  with  their  faces  hid- 
den ;  the  boldest,  covering  their  eyes,  crouch- 
ed, and  now  and  then  snatched  glances  fear- 
fully. Afterwhile  the  khan  and  everything 
thereabout  lay  under  the  intolerable  radiance. 
Such  as  dared  look  beheld  the  star  standing 

106 


still  directly  over  the  house  in  front  of  the 
cave  where  the  Child  had  been  born. 

In  the  height  of  this  scene,  the  wise  men 
came  up,  and  at  the  gate  dismounted  from  their 
camels,  and  shouted  for  admission.  When  the 
steward  so  far  mastered  his  terror  as  to  give 
them  heed,  he  drew  the  bars  and  opened  to 
them.  The  camels  looked  spectral  in  the  un- 
natural light,  and,  besides  their  outlandishness, 
there  were  in  the  faces  and  manner  of  the  three  7> 
visitors  an  eagerness  and  exaltation  which  still 
further  excited  the  keeper's  fears  and  fancy ; 
he  fell  back,  and  for  a  time  could  not  answer 
the  question  they  put  to  him. 

"  Is  not  this  Bethlehem  of  Judea  ?" 

But  others  came,  and  by  their  presence  gave 
him  assurance. 

"  No,  this  is  but  the  khan ;  the  town  lies  far- 
ther on." 

"  Is  there  not  here  a  child  newly  born  ?" 

The  by-standers  turned  to  each  other  mar- 
velling, though  some  of  them  answered,  "  Yes, 
yes." 

"  Show  us  to  him !"  said  the  Greek,  impa- 
tiently. 

"  Show  us  to  him !"  cried  Balthasar,  break- 
ing through  his  gravity ;  "  for  we  have  seen 
his  star,  even  that  which  ye  behold  over  the 
house,  and  are  come  to  worship  him." 

The  Hindoo  clasped  his  hands,  exclaiming, 
"  God  indeed  lives !  Make  haste,  make  haste ! 
The  Saviour  is  found.  Blessed,  blessed  are  we 
above  men !" 

The  people  from  the  roof  came  down  and 
107 


followed  the  strangers  as  they  were  taken 
through  the  court  and  out  into  the  enclosure; 
at  sight  of  the  star  yet  above  the  cave,  though 
less  candescent  than  before,  some  turned  back 
afraid ;  the  greater  part  went  on.  As  the 
strangers  neared  the  house,  the  orb  arose  j 
when  they  were  at  the  door,  it  was  high  up 
overhead  vanishing ;  when  they  entered,  it 
went  out  lost  to  sight.  And  to  the  witnesses 
of  what  then  took  place  came  a  conviction 
that  there  was  a  divine  relation  between  the 
star  and  the  strangers,  which  extended  also 
to  at  least  some  of  the  occupants  of  the  cave. 
When  the  door  was  opened,  they  crowded  in. 

The  apartment  was  lighted  by  a  lantern 
enough  to  enable  the  strangers  to  find  the 
mother,  and  the  child  awake  in  her  lap. 

"  Is  the  child  thine  ?"  asked  Balthasar  of 
Mary. 

And  she  who  had  kept  all  the  things  in  the 
least  affecting  the  little  one,  and  pondered  them 
in  her  heart,  held  it  up  in  the  light,  saying, 

"  He  is  my  son !" 

And  they  fell  down  and  worshipped  him. 

They  saw  the  child  was  as  other  children : 
about  its  head  was  neither  nimbus  nor  materi- 
al crown ;  its  lips  opened  not  in  speech ;  if  it 
heard  their  expressions  of  joy.  their  invoca- 
tions, their  prayers,  it  made  no  sign  whatever, 
but,  baby-like,  looked  longer  at  the  flame  in 
the  lantern  than  at  them. 

In  a  little  while  they  arose,  and,  returning  to 
the  camels,  brought  gifts  of  gold,  frankincense, 
and  myrrh,  and  laid  them  before  the  child. 
108 


abating  nothing  of  their  worshipful  speeches; 
of  which  no  part  is  given,  for  the  thoughtful 
know  that  the  pure  worship  of  the  pure  heart 
was  then  what  it  is  now,  and  has  always  been, 
an  inspired  song. 

And  this  was  the  Saviour  they  had  come  so 
far  to  find  ! 

Yet  they  worshipped  without  a  doubt. 

Why? 

Their  faith  rested  upon  the  signs  sent  them 
by  him  whom  we  have  since  come  to  know 
as  the  Father;  and  they  were  of  the  kind 
to  whom  his  promises  were  so  all-sufficient 
that  they  asked  nothing  about  his  ways.  Few 
there  were  who  had  seen  the  signs  and  heard 
the  promises  —  the  Mother  and  Joseph,  the 
shepherds,  and  the  Three  —  yet  they  all  be- 
lieved alike ;  that  is  to  say,  in  this  period  of 
the  plan  of  salvation,  God  was  all  and  the  Child 
nothing.  But  look  forward,  O  reader!  A 
time  will  come  when  the  signs  will  all  proceed 
from  the  Son.  Happy  they  who  then  believe 
in  him ! 

Let  us  wait  that  period. 


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